Thinly Veiled Illusion
by Casdeya
Summary: When a tragedy rips through Claire's life, she follows a path of revenge with the one man who can aid her in her quest. Sylar/Claire, AU
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes nor any of the characters.

AN: This story is set a year after the events in "The Second Coming" and then branches off into its own little AU and as such, they are absolutely not related in any way.

* * *

Strands of honey colored hair blew past her face as she giggled merrily, looking every bit the 21-year-old girl she was. Just a young girl having, everyday, run-of-the-mill, completely normal fun.

The roller coaster sped across the track as its captives howled in delight and mock fear. One of the passengers did just that as the wind whipped across her small frame, making her feel as though she were flying through the air. Her thoughts immediately shot to her father, wondering if he still relished the feeling of soaring across the skies, controlling his own path through the clouds and she felt a small pang of jealously, wishing she could know the feeling of complete freedom. But for now, she would relish the feeling of being a normal girl.

A feeling that could never last.

Sunlight danced across the metal rails as a final farewell to the day as it sank from view. Almost immediately the lights of amusement park switched on, filling the night with the air of childishness that could only be attributed to a place like Disneyworld. That feeling, however, vanished at the roller coaster began to groan as though under tremendous amounts of weight. The cars began to slow as the panicked voices of its passengers began to show their alarm.

A sudden lurch and the entire coaster jerked to a harsh stop at one of the attractions highest points. Several screams cut through the night air and it became apparent that the people observing had become aware of their predicament. Claire searched the crowd below until she found light glinting off a familiar pair of glasses. She gave a slight nod, to show that she was fine, and he returned the gesture, though the expression of worry on his face was still apparent.

Claire turned to her younger brother and protectively wrapped an arm around him. He smiled in appreciation of the gesture and squeezed her free hand with his own. Now she really wished she had inherited her father's ability so she could simply scoop up her younger brother and glide safely to the ground.

"It'll be okay, Lyle," she assured him with a confidence she hoped he wouldn't question.

"I know, sis. I'm sure they'll have us moving again in no time," he replied with one of his characteristically boyish smiles. She couldn't help but admire what a great kid he had grown into. He had met all of their family's challenges with the determination of his father and yet managed to keep the warmness of his mother. He was certainly a Bennet, there was no question about that.

A roar of the crowd and a collective gasp of the passengers caused the young pair to turn and see what had caused the commotion. To their horror, they watched as a young man, probably in his early twenties, began to climb out of the car. He nervously surveyed the air below him with his left leg until he found the support of one of the many metal bars. He slowly began his descent as everyone watched in rapture.

Claire glanced down and noticed that several news crews had already arrived and several cameras were pointed in their direction. Without any warning, the cars suddenly jolted into movement as though nothing had happened. Claire covered her mouth in horror as she watched the climbing boy lose his grip as the track rattled with the movement of the cars. The world seemed to go into slow motion as she watched his fingers began to slip from the bar one by one until his last bit of strength was spent. She grabbed her brother and held him close as the boy plummeted to the ground.

* * *

Even after the nightmarish night on the roller coaster, life had begun to resume as normal for the Bennet family. Noah had made sure that Claire's last year in college would be a normal and happy one for the family that had gone through so much in the past several years.

So, he had swept them up, moved them across the country, changed their names, and kept a predator's watch on anyone who came close. However, with the recent incident and the media coverage it inspired, he knew their enemies, Claire's enemies, would have noticed. It was just a question of when.

That very question was on his mind as his children raced down the stairs. "Good morning, Claire-bear," he said with a small as he placed a light peck on her forehead.

She beamed up at him underneath her waves of blonde hair, blue eyes sparkling. It still amazed him how much she had matured in the past years. The naïve, young cheerleader had been replaced with a confident young woman with an inner strength nobody her age should possess. But he supposed watching a psycho kill your friend, being tracked down like an animal by your father's company and seeing your uncle and biological father fly off in a mass of nuclear radiation would do that to you.

"Good morning, Daddy," she replied as she grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table. "We gotta run or we'll be late," she explained as she grabbed her backpack from the chair next to his and dashed for the door, her younger brother on her heels.

* * *

Claire sped down the sun parched highway in her Nissan, fiddling with the radio until she found a station she was comfortable with, though she could barely hear the music over the beeping coming from whatever video game Lyle was playing. Normally, she'd be annoyed by that, but today had been a good day. She'd aced her biology test, gotten her psychology paper in on time, had a cute guy buy her a cup of coffee, and still found the time to pick her brother up from high school.

She pulled into the driveway of their house and found herself studying it as though it was the first time. It wasn't as nice as their Costa Verde home, or as homey as their house in Odessa, but it was charming and it was home now.

Her and her brother grabbed their things and headed for the front door and almost immediately Claire knew something was up. She held up an arm in front of Lyle, forcing him to stop. He opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he saw the look on his sister's face. Her young features were twisted in a look of determination and worry. She listened closely but heard no sounds and realized that's what was off.

Both of her parents' cars were in the driveway and at this time of the day her mother should be watching Oprah and preparing dinner. But Claire didn't hear the tv or pots and pans rattling or even her parents talking about their day. It sounded as though the house was completely empty.

With a wave of her hand, she motioned for Lyle to stay behind her and with a finger pressed to her lips, she told him to keep quiet. He nodded his understanding and moved in close against her back as she slowly turned the knob.

The slid open easily and she carefully peered in. Everything looked perfectly normal except for the fact that nobody was in sight. She crept in as quietly as possible, taking great care not to make even the slightest sound. Her stealthiness was thwarted, though, when Lyle bumped into the foyer table. It wasn't a loud sound, but Claire knew it was enough. Without even waiting to see if her instincts were right, she shoved her brother to the floor.

"Get down, now!" Claire screamed as they hit the floor together. Her intuition was spot-on as a flurry of bullets hurtled through the air over their heads.

"Miss Bennet, you need to come with us," a man said calmly behind the gun that was trained on her.

Claire looked up at her enemies as she climbed to her feet. The man who had spoken had Company written all over him. He was rather ordinary looking; average brown hair in a crew cut, thin glasses perched on his equally thin and rather pointed nose and clad in the stereotypical black suit, white shirt, black tie. She decided she'd call him Joe.

Joe was accompanied by an unequally unremarkable woman and despite her current predicament, Claire couldn't help but wonder if the Company was taking it's cues from the Men in Black. She also tried to guess which of them was equipped with more than just a gun.

"Where are my parents?" she asked, trying her hardest to keep her voice from shaking.

"Oh they are right here, Miss Bennet," Joe replied calmly and with a motion of his arm, the chairs her parents were tied to moved into the room seemingly of their own accord, exposing Joe as the talented one in the duo. However, his actions didn't intimidate her. She'd been against a much stronger opponent who also had the gift of telekinesis.

Claire nearly choked on a sob as she took in the frighten forms of her mother, bound and clearly terrified as tears ran freely down the older woman's face. Her father's expression was quite different, his eyes burned with fire behind his trademark glasses and Claire knew if he got loose, the pair from the Company would suffer.

Lyle whimpered from his position at Claire's feet and she managed to give her brother a weak smile, "It's going to be okay, Lyle, just stay down. I'm going to fix this."

He nodded his compliance, though Claire could see the terror in his young eyes. She hated Primatech for putting her family through this. Claire decided she'd had enough and with a deep breath, she walked toward them, every step defined with purpose.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Miss Bennet," Joe replied as he carefully leveled the gun he was holding at her and cocked it.

Claire stopped dead, frozen in fear and without a clue what she should do. She looked to her father and found herself wishing one of them had telepathy. There were two options here: she could continue being the scared little cheerleader and let them take her away from her family or she could put on a brave face and fight.

She decided on the latter as she continued her march towards him. Without hesitation, he fired. The bullet, sailed past her head, and she kept moving. He fired again, this one caught her left shoulder and though she winced, she kept moving. He fired once more and this one missed her completely, sailing past her kneecap and Claire nearly smiled until she heard a sound behind her.

She turned as if she were caught in slow motion, because she knew, without a doubt, what that sound was. The knowledge of it, however, didn't prepare her for the sight her crystal blue eyes took in.

Her little brother was crumpled on the floor, blood already pooling around him and turning his messy brown hair crimson. She rushed to his side and collapsed on the floor next to him, tears already falling from her eyes. She reached out and scooped the boy into her arms, cradling him to her chest as she cried for him. The bullet had ripped through his chest and Claire knew he was already dead.

"I'm so sorry, Lyle. I'm so sorry, this is all my fault," she just kept repeating it over and over as though her apologetic mantra would somehow bring him back. She could hear her mother's sobs behind her and her father screaming in a bloody rage at the bastard who had just killed his son.

Claire knew then that she wouldn't risk her family's safety any longer," Fine, I'll go with you, just don't hurt my parents."

"Claire, no. You don't have to do this," her father protested, but he knew how stubborn his daughter was. "Claire-bear, it's not your fault."

"Yes, it is, Dad, and there's no other option," Claire replied, her voice low and full of resolve. And with that final statement, she walked up to Joe and held up her hands for him to apply the cuffs she knew he was carrying.

"Smart girl," Joe replied as he snapped the metal bracelets in place and grabbed her arm, forcefully leading her out of her once happy home.

* * *

Claire sat in the back of the black, unmarked van as it rolled down the highway piloted by Joe's uninteresting and apparently mute female partner. They both seemed oblivious to her, probably because they didn't see her as much of a threat and that infuriated her all the more.

She might not have had a cool power like pyrokinesis, but she was aware of a few tricks she could do with hers and when she spied an 18-wheeler lumbered down the highway in the next lane, she knew she'd found her opportunity.

Wordlessly and quickly, Claire dove from the backseat and grabbed the steering wheel with her bound hands. She knew timing was everything and just hoped she'd got it right as she turned the wheel sharply, sending the van on a collision course with the truck.

"Stupid girl, what are you doing?" Joe screamed and Claire could hear the terror in his voice and it made her smile.

Within moments, the van collided with the truck, reducing it to a flaming ball of twisted metal and blood. The crash didn't damage her as much as she had initially planned, just a broken neck, arm, and a few ribs and several long gashes. A look at her captors and she knew they didn't fair so lucky.

Joe's skull was obviously crushed and shards of his glasses were embedded in his eyeballs and forehead. His partner wasn't in any better shape as her head was twisted at an eerie and unnatural angle.

The sight would have made Claire sick if they hadn't just murdered her brother and taken her away from her family. She knew it wouldn't be long before the cops arrived so she tore her body from the wreckage and ran for her life.

She knew they were only a few miles from her home, but she couldn't go back there and put her family through that again. With her gone, her parents would be safe and the Company would have no reason to keep chasing them.

So, instead of returning home, she decided she'd go to the next town over, get some money and clothes and figure the rest out from there.

* * *

After a twenty-three-mile hike, Claire found herself in the small town of Summerville, SC, just north of Charleston, the city they'd been calling home for nearly a year. It was a quaint little place, like a town you'd see in an old movie where kids could still ride their bike to the local ice cream shop and all the businesses were owned by families or little old men.

The only problem which such a charming little town is that a girl covered in blood tends to stand out. And with no money, she knew she'd have to venture into the bank and pray they didn't call the cops on her.

No, she knew they'd call the cops and take her to the hospital as soon as they saw her. She had to figure something out and fast, she realized or she was in real trouble. Luckily, salvation found her as she walked by the local park and spotted a raincoat just lying across one of the benches.

She knew it probably belonged to one of the parents playing with their children in the sandbox or pushing them on the swings, and though Claire hated what she had to do, she didn't have another option. So, she swiftly ran by the bench and snatched the coat, praying nobody saw her.

When she felt she was a safe distance away, she slid the coat and and was happy to see that even though it wasn't very conspicuous, it did cover all of the blood stains. And with her new disguise, she made her way to the bank.

She couldn't have more thankful at that moment, that her father, Nathan Petrelli, had the foresight to set up a rather hefty trust in case anything like this should ever happen. She wasn't exactly sure how hefty the trust was until she gave the teller the account number and saw her eyes widen in shock.

"Okay, Ms. Petrelli, how much did you want to withdraw?" the teller asked kindly.

"Could you please tell me what the balance is?" Claire asked quietly, half because of necessetiy and half because of curiosity.

"Of course, the current balance is $250,000," the teller answered with a knowing smile.

Claire nearly choked. She knew her biological family had money, but her father had actually secreted away a quarter of a million dollars just for her? For the first time, she realized she might actually be able to make it on her own afterall.

"Wow, okay. I would like to withdraw one thousand of that, please," Claire told the lady in her most polite tone.

As Claire stepped out of the bank with $1000 in her pocket, her mind was still spinning in disbelief. There was still a lot of things she had to do, the first of which was to buy some clothes and find a place to stay.

* * *

Scalding water cascaded down Claire's golden tresses and tanned skin in the small hotel shower. She watched it swirl in the drain, now stained red. From her blood, from her brother's blood and she broke down.

Images of her young sibling flood her mind a tears pour from her eyes. She has never felt pain so intensely before. So consuming and devouring that it threatened to steal the breath from her lungs. She clutches at her chest as though she's searching for a gaping hole that refuses to close up, but she knows she won't find anything.

She knows she's supposed to be indestructible, but the memories of her brother's bloody young body threaten to tear her in two.

She cries throughout the night, she cries so much she doesn't know if it will ever stop, if her eyes will stop burning and vaguely wonders how her body could possibly produce so many tears.

The only thought that finally stops the flow of tears is the thought of revenge. The Company had taken everything from her over and over again and it was time to do something about it. She wasn't foolish enough to think she could take them by herself, but she knew one man who possibly could. And even though she detested the thought of asking for his help, she knew it was the only way.

The only real problem was that she'd have to venture into the mouth of hell to find him.

* * *

A/N: This could be a long one, I'm not sure yet. I've actually had this sitting on my computer for a while now, the first few chapters are mostly done, so updates should be pretty frequent. And please, let me know what you think.

Also, Summerville is an actual place, but not really that small of a town.


	2. Chapter 2

Sylar sat on the cold cement floor of his cell, his back leaned against the wall as he started out the single glass wall, waiting for his captors to begin their next round of torture.

He couldn't help but wonder how he allowed himself to get here, captured and kept like a tamed animal. He might have been caged, but he certainly wasn't tamed and he longed for the day when he'd spill their blood on the very cement that surrounded him.

It was only a matter of time until they slipped up and he'd be ready to end their wretched existence.

* * *

The rumbling of the engine and the gentle vibrations of the seat had finally allowed Claire to sleep into a deep slumber, and though it was a short plane ride, she felt refreshed when she walked out of the terminal, but still at a loss as to what she would do from there.

She decided the first thing she'd need is a place to stay so she hailed a taxi which took her to the nearest hotel. After she paid for her room and unpacked her things, she sat on the bed and started to wonder if she was getting herself into more than she could handle.

In the end, it didn't really matter. She needed revenge and there was only person strong enough and who would possibly be willing to help. Now she had to figure out a way in and even more pressing, a way out.

She knew the layout of the building all too well, which provided her with a necessary advantage. Once she got in, all she'd have to do is find his cell, release him and pray that he didn't leave there. The wheels in her head slowly started to turn and a plan began to form, brilliant in its simplicity.

First things first, she needed a mode of transportation so she called a taxi and had him drop her at a small used car lot after a quick stop by the bank.

She was immediately approached by a seedy-looking middle-age man who looked every bit the stereotypical used car salesman. The only part of his hair that wasn't greasy was the large patch missing in the center of his bulbousy head. His suit was plain and wrinkled and obviously not as nice as what she accustomed to seeing her fathers wear.

"Well hello there, little lady, what can I help you find?" he asked cheerfully with a large smile.

"I need a car. Something fast," Claire responded, seeing no point in wasting time with pleasantries.

"Well of course you do, now let me show you what we've got over here," he replied, leading over to a piece of 1980's junk. Claire was about to question if it even ran when something at the back of lot caught her eye.

"How much for that?" Claire asked, motioning to the vehicle in the back. It was a motorcycle, solid black and in great shape compared to everything else on the lot. She didn't know anything about bikes, but she thought it was what you'd call a sport bike, probably Japanese.

"Oh, you don't want that old thing," the man began, still intent on selling her a car that barely had any paint left on it, "That there is a deathtrap."

Claire almost laughed at him. She was looking for speed and maneuverability and for two people who didn't have fear of dying in an accident, this was quite possibly the perfect answer.

"I didn't ask for your opinion, I asked how much," Claire responded, running one hand over the cool leather seat, enjoying the way it felt under her fingertips.

"Well, let me think now. That's a Kawasaki Ninja with a 500 cc engine, only a year old and in fine condition. I suppose I could let you have it for $5000," the man decided with a smile.

Claire knew he was probably trying to rip her off, she doubted it cost much more than that brand new, but money wasn't really a concern at the moment. She pulled a wad of cash from her pocket and counted it out. Wordlessly she handed him the money and for a moment, was afraid the man was going to drool on her.

"Yes, ma'am, let me just get you the title," he said excitedly as he clutched the money, eyes still wide from surprise.

After the necessary paperwork was completed, Claire found herself owning a bike she didn't know how to ride. The salesman gave her a brief lesson on how to shift and lean for turns, and she decided the best way to learn was by doing and after a few days, she felt she knew it enough to do what she had to.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since her arrival in her old hometown. Claire had made sure to keep a low profile while she gathered the necessary materials and so far, had gotten through her time their unnoticed. But now came the real test.

Today was the day she put her plan into action. She grabbed her backpack with everything she'd need, placed her black helmet on, making sure to hide all traces of her blonde hair, and set off to the heart of the very organization that had cost her little brother his life. Primatech.

* * *

She pulled up to the side of the building, hiding her bike from view in some nearby bushes while she began to lay her trap. Four bombs were placed at the far side of the building, she was still amazed how easy it was to not only learn how to make a bomb, but to find the materials and throw them together. She set the timers to allow enough to for her to make it back to where her bike was.

For a second, she thought she'd done something wrong, but was rewarded when she heard the explosions followed by the screams inside. Everyone inside immediately headed for the side door, while Claire took that opportunity to climb in through a window.

She knew that surveillance cameras were everywhere, she just prayed that security had fallen for her little distraction. When she made it down the stairs, she assumed they had taken the bait.

She snuck down several long corridors, making all the right turns and finally entered Level 5. She felt a sudden thrill realizing she might actually be able to pull this off.

As she continued down the dank corridor, sparing few glances into the cells, she grabbed a fire axe from the wall and headed for the cell she knew would be his. She knew it was his cell, because it was, in fact, built specifically to hold him back when her father was chasing him across the country.

Without even glancing into the room, she swung at the control panel next to the door and was happy to see hear the locking mechanism buzz and spark until it clicked off. She swung the door open, knowing that last action would have alerted the guards and stepped inside.

Sylar immediately sprung to his feet and looked over at the person responsible for the latest intrusion. It was impossible to tell the person's identity due to a motorcycle helmet hiding their face, but he could tell from the body that it was a woman.

"Come on, we have to get out of here," the helmet-clad female called out, motioning with her arm for him to follow.

"Who are you?" he asked before taking even a step closer.

Exasperated and a little annoyed, Claire pulled off her helmet, long blonde locks tumbling out behind her. "Will you come on now?"

"Claire? Why would you-" he started to ask but was cut off by the sound of the several guards approaching. "Later," he decided as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway.

They narrowly missed a stream of gunfire and Sylar pushed her down the hall, pointing to the door and yelling for her to run.

He turned to their attackers and let a stream of fire burst from his fingertips, flames engulfing the entire hallway. When he was certain the guards were in no position to follow, he chased after Claire.

They narrowly made it out of the building, but did, and with only a few bullet holes between them. Claire pointed to the bike hidden behind the bushes and Sylar's eyes followed her direction.

"Beautiful," he said with a smirk, realizing the little cheerleader had thought of everything.

Without wasting a moment, he climbed onto their ride and started the engine before realizing that Claire wasn't following his lead.

"Claire, let's go," he demanded in a tone that couldn't be argued with. She jumped onto the back of the bike and they sped off to safety.

Her chest was pressed firmly against his back, her arms were wrapped around his chest and she could his muscles flex underneath her hands. She might have enjoyed the proximity with another man, but with Sylar, it was unnerving. He seemed blissfully unaware of it.

When they reached the small part of town Claire had been staying in, she pointed to a local shop. He seemed to get the hint as the bike slowed and pulled into the parking lot.

"Don't tell me you feel the need to buy some clothes after breaking a wanted man out of Primatech?" Sylar asked mockingly.

"No, but you do," she responded calmly, motioning to his Company standard-issue white pants and white shirt, hardly inconspicuous.

He glanced down at his apparel and realized he couldn't argue with that, so he followed her into the store and began perusing the men's section. And though they were both thinking it, neither made a single remark about the awkwardness of their situation, but after a few minutes of shopping with a picky serial killer, she decided it was simply too strange, so she handed him money and left to wait by the bike.

He emerged several minutes later, with two shopping bags in hand and looking decidedly different. And for the first time, Claire got the first good look at him in over a year. He hadn't changed much, she realized. His hair was shorter and just a bit spiked, more like it was that night at Kirby Plaza, but his face retained the same dark features and arrogant smirk complete with the ever-present layer of stubble along his jaw. She realized that a woman who didn't know he was a psychotic serial-killer would probably find him very attractive.

Replacing the Company garb was now a pair of dark jeans and black shirt which he wore loosely with several of the top buttons undone showing just a hint of dark hair dusting his chest. He was a bit thinner than she remembered, which she attributed either to months on Company meals or simply the fact that she wasn't as intimidated by him this time.

He held up as his arms as he neared her and their ride and asked, almost playfully, "Well Claire, how do I look?" Arrogant smirk ever present on his face. Before he became Sylar, girls didn't seem to ever notice him, but now he knew that most found him attractive and found himself laughing inwardly at the fact that women really did dig the bad boy image.

Claire rolled her eyes. It was almost too much. "You look fine, now let's get out of here."

And with that, he handed her the shopping bags and mounted the bike, putting her once in again in close proximity and leaving her with the options of either wrapping her arm around him or falling off the bike at sixty miles per hour. And though she'd survive the fall, they didn't need the attention, so without hesitation, she looped an arm around his chest and they were off, cursing herself the whole way for not buying a car instead.

Minutes later, they were in her hotel room and wasted no time at getting to business.

"So Claire, I can't help but wonder why you decided to spring me from my cozy cell," Sylar began, eyeing her from his position against the wall while she sat casually on the bed. "Unless your master plan here was just to me alone with you in a hotel room, I want to know what you've got in mind."

While she didn't find his joke amusing, though clearly he did, she was happy he wasn't one for pleasantries. "I need your help. The Company took something from me and I want them to pay for it."

"Your parents?"

"My brother."

"Ah. Well Claire, not that I don't appreciate what you've done, but what makes you think I'd want to risk ending up back in that hell hole instead of returning to my former life?" he asked her in that familiar tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Because I didn't figure you for a coward," she shot back, hoping his ego was enough to convince him. However when he merely raised an eyebrow at her statement, she continued, "And I can pay you."

Sylar laughed, not a deep, hearty laugh, but more of a dark chuckle, "You, the innocent little cheerleader, want to pay me, the ruthless killer, to help you get revenge. Have you really thought about what you're saying?"

"Yes. I'll give you $10,000," she replied without missing a beat.

"I'm not that interested in money."

"$20,000."

"I don't think you're listening, Claire. I don't want your money, but I will help you," he said, with no indication that he was going to tell her why.

So she asked, "Why?"

He shrugged, "I like you, Claire. You're interesting and I've got an eternity to collect abilities, might as well have some fun at the Company's expense. Then I can return to my former work without worrying about them chasing around the globe.

His answer was exactly what she'd expected when she'd been planning everything and though it bothered her to know she might be letting a killer on the loose with nobody to stop him, thoughts of revenge were enough to overcome any doubts.

* * *

Later that night, Claire's eye shifted over Sylar's sleeping form. They had a small argument over getting a second room. Claire had planned on it from the beginning, but Sylar made the point that if anything happened, if the Company found them, they'd fare better together. And so, here they were in a small hotel room with only a single bed, a small desk, an armchair and a tv perched atop a dresser.

She drew the line at sharing the bed and so here she sat, her knees pulled to her chest in the armchair, a blanket pulled over her shivering young body. She could have insisted on the bed, and she had a feeling he would've let her have it, but she decided that since he'd spent months sleeping on concrete, she'd let him have it.

And as she watched him sleep, she was glad she did. He didn't look like a murderer in his sleep, he looked peaceful. With his eyes closed and face completely relaxed, Claire also realized he looked much younger than she initially thought. And she knew that this was something special, something that she was the only person to ever witness because typically, he'd never let his guard down.

"It's not polite to stare," his voice cut through the darkness and her silent appraisal of him.

She blushed despite herself, like a schoolgirl who'd been caught checking out her teacher, and was thankful the room was so dark. She struggled to find a response, anything that would make it seem like she was doing anything but ogling him like a horny teenager.

"Sorry," she finally muttered under her breath, mentally chiding herself for being a moron.

"It's okay, you can look," he replied and she could just make out the lines of the smirk across his face. And though it took a minute to register, she realized the ass was actually flirting with her, just to annoy her. And it was working.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I want to do, check out the man who cut my head off and played with my brain," she bit off, clearly perturbed, though if she was honest, more with herself than with him.

At her words, he sat up in bed and met her eyes with his own. "I suppose you could say I deserved that, but really Claire, you came and got me, I didn't ask to be sitting here in a hotel room having you watch me sleep."

She hated him for being so right, but she knew he was and that she was just being childish. She muttered another weak apology and turned in her chair, pulling the blanket up to her chin and shivering beneath it.

Sylar saw this and shook his head at her stubbornness. "Claire, if you're so cold just get in the bed."

She shot him an icy look and replied with, "I don't make it a habit of sleeping with serial killers." Though, she immediately regretted the words because she knew she was being childish again. He was actually trying to be nice to her and she was simply being a bitch in return. So she added quickly, "Besides, you seem to be enjoying having it all to yourself."

He laughed. "While that's true, I don't mind sharing. And I'm a killer, not a rapist. I'm not going to hurt you."

As another cold chill shot through her body, she relented and climbed into the bed, taking great care to keep at least a foot of space between them. Within minutes she was fast asleep.

* * *

Claire awoke the next morning warm and cozy and feeling surprisingly refreshed. She had slept better than she had in ages and she absently wondered if it was because she secretly felt safe with Sylar at her side. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she was completely mortified to find her arm splayed across his bare chest and her leg thrown across his.

She was even more horrified when she looked up and realized he was watching her with rapt amusement. She yanked back the offending appendages as though burned and refused to look at him again.

But the more she thought of the situation, the more pissed off she got. "Why didn't you wake me?" she demanded, angry that he was enjoying her discomfort so much.

"You needed to rest," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Not on top of you," she retorted, her delicate features twisted in anger, even moreso when he laughed.

"Still the innocent little cheerleader, I see," he replied, his black eyes shimmering with amusement and a bit of a challenge.

"I am not," she replied angrily. She couldn't believe he could be so insufferable. "I liked you better when you were trying to kill me."

"No, you didn't," Sylar replied with a knowing sigh. "It's just that when I was trying to take your ability, I was simply a monster. Now that I'm not, you're having a hard time discovering that I'm actually human."

Claire was dumbfounded. Mostly because she knew he was absolutely right. Before yesterday, he was the boogeyman. He had no personality, he didn't eat, he didn't sleep, in her mind, he only killed. Now, here she was realizing that he was just as human as anyone she'd ever known and it was tough to stomach. With that thought, a question popped into her mind and though she didn't expect him to answer, she had to ask.

"Were you always like that?"

"Like what? A killer? Evil? No, Claire, once I was just a child," he answered.

When an awkward silence filled the room, Claire decided it was time to remove herself from a conversation with a serial killer whom she happened to be in bed with.

"You don't x-ray vision or anything do you?" Claire asked casually.

"No, why?"

"Because I'm going to take a shower," she answered before jumping out of bed and heading for the bathroom. She grabbed some clothes out of the dresser on her way and closed the door behind her.

She turned the lock and realized how foolish it was. If he really wanted to come in, a simple lock wouldn't stop him, but she left it lock out of habit and turned the water on.

Claire peeled off her clothes, dropping them onto the floor as she went and once she was naked, carefully tested the water. Finding it was the perfect temperature, she climbed in and savored the feeling of the hot liquid pouring down her body. She enjoyed the feeling so much, that by the time she finished washing, she realized she'd been in there for quite a while.

Reluctantly, she turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel from the nearby rack. She dried off and dressed quickly before exiting the small bathroom, a cloud of steam following her.

She was a bit taken aback to realize that the room was empty and upon further inspection, noticed that the keys to the bike were missing along with the wad of cash she'd deposited on the desk the previous night.

"That's what you get for trusting a man like Sylar," she muttered to the empty room, mentally chiding herself for being so naïve. But just as the words left her mouth the door swung upon to reveal the man in question with an armful of small brown bags.

"Hungry?" he asked, when he saw her standing there and held out one of the two bags to her.

She took it, her face betraying her confusion. Before she could ask, Sylar explained, "You were in there so long I got bored and decided to get some breakfast."

"Oh," was all she could manage as she examined the contents of the bag. She found three small containers and plopped down on the bed with her packages in tow so she could further examine them.

Sylar followed suit and took a seat next to her where they proceeded to remove and uncover all the food he had brought. Claire was surprised at the sheer amount of things he brought. There was a container of scrambled eggs, another with a stack of pancakes, sausage, bacon and one with toast.

Upon sight and smell of the delicious treats, she realized they hadn't eaten last night and with all the energy they'd exerted in his escape, she was starving. She wasted no time in digging in.

"I thought skinny little cheerleader types like you didn't eat much," Sylar remarked as he carefully chewed a strip of bacon, savoring the first real food he'd had in months.

"I kind of have a fast metabolism or something. I can eat a ton," Claire explained as she greedily ate another forkful of scrambled eggs.

"Me too," he replied and in short time, they had consumed everything and sat there content for several minutes.

"So how are we going to do it?" Claire asked, wasting no time in getting to the business at hand.

"You mean, you don't have a plan? Am I to be the brains and brawn of this little mission?" Sylar asked almost playfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I just thought you were kind of smart or something," Claire answered, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Sylar merely laughed at her thinly veiled insult and responded with, "I suppose you're just going to stand around and look pretty while I do all the heavy lifting?"

Claire was torn at how to respond at his compliment/insult. She decided to comment on the latter, "I got you out didn't I or would you prefer to be back in your cell?"

"Well, kitten's grow some claws since I've been away," he remarked with a grin. The truth was, she'd always had some fight in her. It was one of the things that made her interesting, maybe not so much enjoyable when she stabbed him in the chest, but interesting nonetheless.

"I'm not the innocent little child you think I am," Claire bit off, cursing herself for letting the bastard out of his cage and being stuck with him.

"I don't think that at all. I think you're a beautiful and smart woman who has finally realized the strength she's always possessed. I think you're very special, Claire," he stated carefully.

Claire was taken aback by his sudden…niceness, for lack of a better word. It certainly wasn't what she expected, the compliments, the flirting, getting her breakfast. This certainly wasn't the man everyone thought he was.


	3. Chapter 3

Claire let out an exasperated sigh for the fifteenth time in five minutes. She had been stuck in a tiny room with a man she hated for nearly a week with the only planning, arguing, and a tv that picked up a whopping twenty channels to pass the time. She began to wonder if it was actually possible to die of boredom because she was quite certain she could feel her life force draining.

Her eyes darted over to her partner and she found herself a little annoyed to see that he was sitting on the bed. Just sitting there. Doing nothing. How was it possible that a man could spend five hours just sitting and breathing. She was on the verge of picking another fight with him just for some entertainment. And it was fairly easy to do since his every action seemed motivated by his need to drive her insane.

"How can you just sit there?" she finally asked, pacing the room.

"You didn't mention babysitting would be apart of this little arrangement," he responded calmly, his nonchalant attitude annoying her all the more.

"I just figured a man like you would be more interesting," she snapped, not caring if she pissed him off and yet knowing she wouldn't be able to anyway. He was surprisingly calm for a murdering psycho.

"Are you saying I'm boring?" he asked, the slightest hint of a smirk playing at his lips, amusement in his tone.

"I've met plants more interesting," she answered sarcastically.

A single dark eyebrow raised in amusement. "And what is it you would like me to do, Claire?"

"Anything but just sitting there," she replied quickly.

"Anything? That gives me a lot of interesting options," he said in a playful, yet almost sinister tone.

She was aware of two possible implications in his statement, but with no clue as to which he may have been referring. She decided to test out the first option. "Like what, killing me? You tried that one already, remember?"

"That's not exactly what I had in mind." And he was suddenly rising from the bed and crossing the room until they were toe to toe. Before she even had a chance to respond, he punched her in the jaw.

"What the hell was that for?" she asked in surprise, rubbing her jaw not from pain but shock.

"Well Claire, if you want to start a war, first you need to know how to fight," he explained, swinging at her again as soon as the last word escaped his lips.

This time she raised an arm to block the blow and comprehension dawned. "Teach me."

He smiled and motioned for her to follow as he left the hotel room. She trailed after him, down the hallway, into the elevator and onto the roof. Claire didn't have to ask why they were there, it was obvious that it was the only place they'd have an open area with no witnesses.

"I'm not going to take it easy on you," he warned, making sure she knew what he was asking for.

"I wouldn't expect you to. Besides, it's not like you can hurt me."

He nodded and added, "But I won't use any abilities. This is just you and me."

She nodded her understanding and waiting for him to make a move, but he only shook his head. "Come at me."

"What?"

"Attack me, Claire. I know you can do it, you've done it before," he explained and readied himself for her attack.

She stood there for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Sure, she'd attacked him before, but she was terrified, fighting for her life. She decided she'd have to try and she ran at him, crossing the distance between them in long strides until he was within arms reach and then she swung.

Moving with speed and grace she'd only seen in movies, he leaned back, dodging her blow and extended his leg, using her sloppy stance to his advantage as he swept her legs from under her.

She hit the cement with a groan, realizing this would be a lot harder than she previously thought. Angry at how easily he had bested her, she jumped to her feet and swung at his face again. He dodged her as easily as he had the first time, leaning back to avoid the blow and grabbing her wrist as her blow hit the air next to his head. He gave a sharp tug on her outstretched appendage and she found herself once more falling face first onto the cement.

"Claire, I would have expected you to do much better than this given your cheerleading experience," he told her, extending a hand to help her up.

She ignored his hand, looking up at him definitely as she lifted herself from the ground. "What does cheerleading have to do with fighting?"

"A lot, actually. Balance, quick reflexes, flexibility, all things you learned in cheerleading, right?" When she nodded, he continued, "These are things that will help you in battle, use your experience to your advantage."

She was beginning to understand what he meant when a thought occurred to her, "How do you know how to fight like this anyway? I'm surprised you can even dress yourself without using telekinesis."

"Well Claire, when you spend a few months in a building with a man who makes your abilities useless and a team of people who want to hurt you, you learn how to fight back any way you can," he explained, but when he could see Claire wasn't completely buying it, he added, "I also took karate classes for a few years when I was a kid. My father thought I should know how to defend myself." The thought of Sylar as a child with a concerned father was alien to her. Somehow it had never crossed her mind that even a person like him wasn't always a superpowered assassin. "Now, try again, but this time keep in mind what you already know."

She nodded and stood before him, planning her next attack. She swung once more and when he dodged as she predicted, she came through with the other fist, landing a blow right in the middle of his cheek. What she didn't expect was that while she was swinging left, he was also and his fist collided with her eye socket.

"Better," he commended, "but this time try not to get hit."

She swung again with her right hand, he dodged and swung at her, she stopped his arm with her right arm and swung again with her left first, pleased at the cracking sound that came from his body when her fist collided with his rib cage.

He began unbuttoning his black shirt, fingers swiftly working until the last was undone. He pushed it off his shoulders and tossed it on the ground behind him, leaving him clad in jeans and a white cotton ribbed tank top. He lifted it up, revealing a set of gloriously defined abdominal muscles that demanded Claire's attention, but she tore her eyes away, refusing to ogle a serial killer, and looked up as his broken rib began to heal itself, crunching and popping until it was back in place.

"Good, now we can get started," he told her, letting his shirt fall back into place as he stared at her, a predator eyeing its prey.

She charged in again and between dodging blows and landing them, she asked, "What were you like as a kid?"

He dodged a fist heading straight for his nose and swung back, only to have it deflected. "Nothing like I am now."

"What do you mean? Were you like a dork or something?" She stepped backwards, narrowly missing a kick aimed right for her face.

"Something like that," he answered as they continued their dangerous dance.

She finally landed a blow to his head, only to feel the toe of his shoe catch her in the gut. She doubled over, catching her breath. "You mean, you weren't the mysterious bad boy in high school that all the girls had the hots for?"

He laughed and waited for her to resume their training, "Let's just say if you had gone to school with me, you wouldn't have even known who I was."

She wiped a line of sweat from her brow and looked up at him, seeing that he seemed momentarily distracted by their conversation, she chose that opportunity to land a kick to his ribs.

He doubled over, just for a second, "You're a fast learner."

"Were you a killer in high school?"

He stood up and looked at her, "No." And then he attacked, coming at her for the first time since they started.

She ducked, as he expected, and during their movements she managed to say, "Then maybe I would've have liked you."

At that the precise moment that the words left her lips, Sylar's leg swept around from behind, knocking her off her feet and sending her to the ground again. Only this time, Sylar caught her with a single hand to the small of her back. Their faces were inches apart and she could see the beads of sweat lining his forehead, feel his breath, coming out in harsh pants against her skin.

Seeming to realize how close they were and how intimately they were positioned, with his hand against her back, the other resting against her hip, her hands holding onto his shoulders, his knee between her legs…it was too unfamiliar and without meaning to, he dropped her right on her ass.

*

For the next few days, they spent nearly all their time on that rooftop. Claire was coming along surprising fast and Sylar knew it was because of her ability. When a person fights, even if just in training, the fear of injury or even death is always in the back of their mind, restricting their movements and ferocity. For a person who couldn't be injured no matter how hard they were hit, there were no limitations. Her anger was a driving force behind every swing she threw and was another reason she had become a dangerous opponent in a matter of days. Not to mention the fact that could spend hours at a time beating each other senseless without needing a break or even a drink of water.

As she stood before him, he truly realized for the first time that Claire Bennet was no longer the child who everyone knew only as 'the cheerleader,' she wasn't a little girl who needed to hide behind her father and uncle anymore. She was a strong and capable woman and though her looks hadn't changed, her confidence and the way she carried herself had. And not for the first time, he took in how beautiful she actually was. It was a natural beauty, the kind that didn't need makeup and provocative clothing to be apparent. In fact, he was quite certain she could be wearing sweatpants, covered in mud, and her hair in tangles and she'd still be more beautiful than any woman who had spent hours trying to be attractive.

"Are we going to fight or are you going to stare at me all day?" she asked him, her tone playing on both teasing and mocking.

He shook his head, along with her increased confidence came cockiness. Well, if she wanted him, she was going to get him.

The rules had changed since they started. At first, it was only hand-to-hand, now he was using his abilities on her. She was hesitant at first, but when he explained that the Company agents were always paired with one being normal and one being special, she understood the necessity of it. And so, he fired an energy ball at her. It sped through the air, crackling and sparkling blue as it was hurling towards her chest.

She dodged it easily, falling to her knees and dropping back until her shoulders hit the ground behind her. The energy ball soared just over her chest, close enough for her to feel the heat as it passed.

Claire stood up triumphantly, a grin plastered across her face at accomplishing that particularly move. When she noticed Sylar looking at her questioningly, she explained, "Saw it in a movie and I always wanted to try it."

He shook his head and fired another one off at her, she dodged, he threw another. This continued for nearly an hour in silence before conversation began to form. Just as it did every day.

This was their routine and at the same time, their little escape. They fought and they talked. Claire learned more about him, about his life, his father, even his childhood and she shared similar stories with him.

Where that had once been awkwardness and fear, Claire was now finding comfort and security, and though the idea of finding comfort in a man who nearly killed her was laughable, it also felt right in a sense.

She was starting to wonder how a man who seemed so normal…no, normal wasn't the word to describe him. Decent. A man who seemed so decent had become something that terrified so many people. She was beginning to see that the Sylar everyone feared wasn't what they thought he was. And the ideas frightened her because if a serial killer could be kind to her, could want to protect her, did that mean anyone could become a killer?

It was confusing and the more she learned, the more confused she became. The lines began to blur until she couldn't tell what she was looking at anymore. The only thing she really knew was that, god help her, she was beginning to like him. At first, she tolerated him, then she grew to trust him, respect him, and the more time she spent with him, the more she learned about him, the more she found she liked the person hiding beneath the killer.

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" she asked him after narrowly missing an energy ball aimed at her head.

"You're getting better at dodging," he told her, impressed with how she was implementing cheerleading tumbles into a combat situation.

"So are you," she countered.

"Claire, why are you interested in my past?" he asked quietly, tossing another energy ball at her the way someone might throw a baseball during a game of catch.

"Because it's interesting," she answered without really answering anything.

"I never really thought about it. My father had his own business and it was just assumed I'd take over one day," he finally told her, not sure why he did or why it even mattered to her.

"I wanted to be a doctor," she told him, even though he hadn't asked.

"Why?" he asked, surprised by her admission. He couldn't really picture her in scrubs.

"I can heal from anything, I never get sick, and I'll never get a disease. Most people aren't so lucky. I want to help them do what I can do," she answered with a small shrug.

"You can still be a doctor," he stated as he ducked a blow to his head, put a hand behind her back and pushed her forward. Instead of falling, she somersaulted across the roof and emerged on her feet behind him.

"No, I've made my choices and that's not an option anymore," Claire said, and at his questioning look, she added, "You kind of need a high school diploma to get into college."

He didn't say anything further and she didn't either, there was nothing to be said, so they just continued their training, working out their aggression on each other.

*

That night, they sat in their room, watching old movies on tv and laughing over their Chinese food. Acting as though they were just a couple of friends hanging out, instead of a couple of mutants who were planning a war.

The movie was entertaining, some sort of comedy that had been released before Claire had even been born, and she enjoyed the lightheartedness of it. She enjoyed being able to sit there, on a bed with Sylar, and pretend everything was normal.

She expertly removed a piece of chicken from Sylar's plate with her chopsticks and popped the morsel in her mouth, savoring the sweetness of the sauce.

"Claire, why do you always order that if you're just going to steal my food?" Sylar questioned playfully, stealing a dumpling from her plate.

"Because this way I get to have both," she answered, rolling her eyes as though the answer should have been obvious.

"No, you can't. Eat your own food," he demanded, but she paid little mind as she swiped yet another piece of chicken. "You're impossible."

In these almost domestic situations, Claire almost forgot who Sylar was, but then she'd see a certain look in his eye. A look that was dark and deep and made shivers run down her spine and she'd remember that the killer was still in there, waiting for a chance to come out and play. But it didn't terrify her as it once had, now it just brought reality crashing back down on her. Reminding her of what they were doing there, of their purpose and taking away any thoughts she might have toyed with regarding Sylar.

It was useless to think about the future anyway. When this was over, they would go their separate ways. She'd return to her family and he'd return to his former occupation. It was simply the way things were, but romantic ideations still made her ask the question that had been knocking around her skull for days.

"What are you going to do when this is over?" she asked him carefully, setting her food on the small table beside the bed.

"I'm going to do what I've always done. Survive," he answered vaguely.

"Are you going to start killing again?"

"I don't know. Probably," he told her honestly, not seeing any reason to lie and tell her what she wanted to hear.

"You don't have to do that. You've gone this whole time without hurting anyone, why start back?" Claire argued.

She was right, he realized. He hadn't even thought of murder the entire time he'd been with her. Not once, even for a second. Could this be his answer? Was she the angel that kept his demons at bay? He shook his head, losing his argument with himself because he knew it didn't matter anyway. When this was over, she'd go back to her family and he'd be alone again.

As if reading his mind, she whispered softly, "You could stay with me if it will help." Claire didn't know if she said it because she felt guilty over releasing a serial killer or if it was something else entirely, but she didn't dwell on it either.

"It would never work, Claire," he reminded her, his tone soft and low, as if he didn't want to hear what he was saying. And she was left to wonder if he was referring to himself not killing or if he was alluding to something more.

They finished their meals in silence, each lost to their own thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Needing to escape the confines of the small hotel room, Claire had journeyed to the roof to enjoy the still night air. It was crisp and refreshing and she enjoyed feeling the chill of it against her skin.

The sky was cloudless and the moon full, stars sparkling against the expanse of velvet sky. She had always loved the night, even when she was little and most children were afraid of the dark, she had embraced it. She loved the mysteriousness of it, the way everything special seemed to occur only under the light of the moon with just the stars to witness it.

In the dark, she felt like nobody would notice she was different. In the dark, they wouldn't be able to see that she never fit in, that she didn't belong anywhere and never would.

The silence was broken by footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. She knew he could approach in silence, so it was obvious that he wanted her to know he was coming. She turned and caught his silhouette in the light of the doorway. It was strange to think once that same form would have terrified her and now seeing him brought an odd sense of security.

Despite their past and their current disagreements, she knew that with him around, the Company couldn't harm her and that was more safe than she'd felt since her powers emerged.

He crossed the span between them until he reached her side. She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye, and in the moonlight, she realized he wasn't frightening at all. He was almost beautiful, if a man could be described that way, with the dim light reflecting off his dark hair, his eyes sparkling with the star light, almost mirroring the night.

"What makes people who they are?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as though she was afraid any loud noise might interrupt the stillness of thenight.

"A lot of people say it's the choices we make, but that's foolish because everyone makes mistakes. It's human nature to do so. Others say it's nature, some say nurture, but since those two seem to cancel each other out, I say its neither. I don't think there is one defining characteristic that makes someone who they are," Sylar explained, his eyes glued on the glowing orb suspended in the sky.

"What about us? I'm the girl who heals or the cheerleader, you're the killer," Claire responded.

"The convenient little labels people attach to us don't make us who we are. We are the only people who have control over that. If you're tired of being called 'the cheerleader,' then give them a reason to remember your name," he encouraged.

"Is that what you have been trying to do?" Claire asked, in a way that said she was only curious and didn't care to judge him like the rest of them.

"No, Claire, that's not it at all. Sylar isn't even my name," he answered honestly.

"What is it?" she asked, pure curiosity driving her.

"Gabriel," he replied, although he was unsure why. He hadn't told anyone his real name since he used it to deceive Maya and even then, he detested it every time she said it.

"Gabriel," Claire mimicked, as though she were trying it on to see how it fit. "I like it."

Sylar smiled and again, he didn't know what was motivating his actions. Hearing his given name usually inspired irrational bouts of anger and lethal actions, but when she said it, it sounded beautiful.

"Don't get angry with me for asking this, but do you go by Sylar so that people won't remember you, the real you, as something you're not?" Claire started, but realized quickly she was having a hard time putting her thoughts to words. "I mean, as Sylar you do horrible things and it gets you recognized, and everyone will remember Sylar the killer. Nobody will remember Gabriel as a killer."

He contemplated her words carefully and couldn't deny there may have been some truth to them. He believed he had chosen his alias simply because he hated being Gabriel. Gabriel was awkward and ordinary, he was nothing. As Sylar, he was free to become anyone he wanted. But perhaps he didn't want his legacy to be a trail of bodies.

"I don't know, Claire," he finally answered honestly. "It's possible."

"After all of this is over, why don't you start over as Gabriel?" Claire asked, turning so she could face him.

He looked down at her to see she was gazing at him expectantly, hopefully and he realized he hated it. He hated it because she was just one more person who wanted him to change. To be someone else. "Because I can't keep changing to make people happy."

"Even if it's for someone who cares about you?" she asked, not willing to accept his answer.

He was confused by her statement, his mind reeling at the underlying implications. Was she saying she cared about him? Or was it simply hypothetical? He had no way of knowing without asking and he wasn't a man to beat around the bush. "Do you care about me Claire?"

Suddenly finding herself in the proverbial spotlight, she stuttered, "I…um…no…I mean yes…," she let out a sigh to collect herself. "I don't know right now, Sylar, but I think if things were different."

"I have to be who I am, Claire," he responded, though it nearly pained him to do so. Even if she was here, standing in front of him, breathtakingly beautiful and saying she might care about him, he could not and would not put himself through that again. He could not continue living solely to make others happy.

"And who you are is a killer?" she asked incredulously, not believing it.

"If the shoe fits," he repied with a shrug as though they were talking about curtains or something equally unimportant.

"Sylar, you can't tell me that the man I first met so many years ago and the one standing in front of me now is the same person. I can't believe that."

"You can't believe it because you don't want to believe it. Despite your better judgment and the morals you've been taught your entire life, you _like_ me, even though you think you should hate me. But one day you will realize that you and I are more alike than you would like to think. That good and evil, hero and villain are sometimes one in the same. Gray seldom separates into black and white so neatly, and you will discover that all the ideals you cling so tightly to are nothing more than dust," he told her with more conviction than she'd ever heard from anyone. "I only hope that when you do, I am still here."

He left her there, standing on the rooftop of a small hotel in Odessa, Texas, contemplating everything he'd said with only the stars to bear witness to their exchange.

*

The next few days were spent planning and arguing in the confinement of their small hotel room. As though their little heartfelt conversation on the rooftop had never occurred, they both danced around it and continued as they had before. Though, they both knew all the rules had changed that night.

Their plans had finally come together and it was nearly time for them to come to fruition. Thanks to Sylar's recent stay with Primatech, they already knew when the guards switched shifts, which were specials, and what captives they had. They even knew the preferred take-out amongst the agents and security guards. And here it was, the night before they'd take action and stop the Company once and for all.

Now it was just a matter of waiting until morning and Claire was more than a little antsy. She paced nervously across the small span of carpet between the dresser which housed the tv and the bed Sylar was sitting on.

"This is going to work, right?" Claire asked for the umpteenth time that night.

Sylar let out an exaggerated sigh and answered, "Yes, Claire, it's going to work. What are you so afraid of?"

"What am I so afraid of? I've spent three years running from them, you spent four months being tortured by them and they killed my brother," she replied, annoyed he'd ask her such a stupid question. Sometimes she wasn't sure if he continued doing that to purposely drive her insane or if he was genuinely curious. She figured it was a bit of both.

"Claire, we're immortal," he reminded her with the tone a parent would take with a small child.

"There are some things worse than death. I don't want to spend an eternity as a lab rat. I don't want to be poked and prodded, kept in a cage under constant surveillance. I might be immortal, but that just means they'd have a lot longer to play with me," she was babbling nervously and Sylar finally realized how scared she really was.

"If you are this afraid of them, why'd you risk it to get me out?" Sylar asked and this time she knew he was genuinely curious.

"Well, I…um," Claire realized she wasn't exactly sure why she hadn't been this nervous before. "I guess I figured once I got to you, it'd be okay. I wasn't sure you wouldn't leave me there, but I thought that since I was saving you, you'd save me if I got caught."

Sylar seemed surprised with her honesty and contemplated it for a moment. "Why don't you think I'd save you this time?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I guess because we've been at each other's throats and I've been such a bitch to you, not that you don't deserve it, but I don't know if I'd save me if I were you."

Sylar laughed, not a harsh or sarcastic laugh but more of an amused chuckle. He motioned for her to sit down on the bed next to him and she did without hesitation.

"When are you going to get it, Claire? I don't hate you and I don't want to hurt you. Are you still afraid of me?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I know you're extremely strong, but I also know you have no reason to hurt me and even though you're a killer, you don't kill without a purpose."

He nodded at her response, acknowledging it was the truth and then asked, "Do you still hate me?" What she had said the other night still weighed heavily on his mind, but just because she cared about him, didn't mean she had stopped hating him for his past.

"You killed my friend, terrorized me twice, cut off my scalp and have driven me completely insane the past few days, but no, I don't hate you. And it's not because I'm a wonderfully forgiving person. It's because I've seen a different side of you now and I don't think you want to be what you are."

"You're very insightful for someone so young, Claire," he commented.

Silence filled the gap between them for a moment until he once again broke the tense silence.

"Do you trust me, Claire?" he asked quietly, gazing at her so intently with his ebony orbs she thought she might smolder beneath them.

"Yes."

"I won't let them hurt you," he told her and she knew he meant it. She was suddenly aware of their close proximity as she felt the warmth radiating from his body and as his deliciously male scent filled her senses.

"Sylar, if something does happen tomorrow, I just want you to know," she began as her blue eyes met his dark pools, "I do forgive you."

Claire's heart fluttered when his fingers brushed a strand of her honey hued hair from her eyes. He cupped her cheek gently and lowered his face to hers until they were so close she could feel his breath against her skin.

He lowered his lips to hers so slowly it felt like an eternity before they touched, but when they did, a fire ignited within her instantly. What started slow and gently, became fierce and passionate, his hand tangled in her long locks as she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer, savoring the taste that was deliciously Sylar.

His mind was reeling. He was no stranger to the pleasures of the body, but nothing had ever made him feel so alive. Blood and adrenaline burned in his veins and when she slid her tongue between his lips, he thought he might die from the sheer intensity of her passion. She was so soft and pure and so wonderfully responsive to his every action. She felt like heaven and she tasted like redemption.

Sylar was suddenly very aware of how little her nightgown left to the imagination. In reality, it was just a small, thin piece of silk that barely covered her and had a hem of lace that stretched across her expanse of long, tanned thighs. It was screaming at him to tear it off.

He made it very clear who was in control as he pressed his body against hers and anchored her with the hand still in her hair. He dominated her in a way that wouldn't even allow her the chance to fight back and Claire loved every minute of it.

Claire had been kissed before, but never like this. The feeling from his tongue tangling with her own made fire erupt in her belly and her head swim. She kissed back with equal intensity as she lay pinned helplessly beneath him.

Her hands clutched at him, grasping at his shirt, his hair, his shoulders, as though she needed to know that he was real. That what he was making her feel was real.

Sylar pulled back suddenly, and as Claire panted beneath him, he almost hated himself for picking this particular time to be righteous.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I can't do this," he muttered between gasped breaths and when he saw the brief flash of hurt in her eyes, he hated himself even more. And as that thought struck him, he wondered why the fuck he cared if hurt her.

"What? Why?" Claire questioned, her mind reeling with a hundred thoughts at once and the most palpable was the feeling of rejection. Rejection by a murderer she had been making out with. "Nevermind, you're right. That was a mistake."

Her words stung, he couldn't deny that, even to himself, but he knew she was right. They were from two different worlds and he wouldn't make her hate herself for giving in to passion in a moment of weakness. No matter how much he wanted it.

He let out a long sigh and pulled his t-shirt over his head, casually tossing it to the floor before falling back against his pillow. "We should get some sleep."

She nodded her agreement, but the awkwardness of the situation had her at a loss as to how she should proceed. When Sylar caught her dilemma, he held out an arm and she just stared at him blankly.

"Come on, I'm not going to bite," he coaxed and she gave in, curling next to him and laying her head against his shoulder while he draped his arm across her shoulders.

They fell asleep minutes later, Claire feeling safer than she had in years and Sylar finally allowing himself to feel connected to someone, even if just for a night.

***

Morning came far too soon for them, bright rays of sun filtering through the window and awaking them from a blissful sleep.

Claire's eyes opened first and she was embarrassed to find her and Sylar was tangled together, like lovers after a night of passion. She tried to pull her limbs from him without waking, but when she gently tugged her arm from under his neck, he stirred.

"Morning beautiful," he muttered playfully, his voice heavy and gravelly with sleep. He snaked an arm under her waist as she continued trying to remove her arm. She let out a small squeal when he yanked her over to him, melding their bodies together.

She wasn't sure what inspired the change in behavior, she mostly assumed it was just fear of the uncertain, fear that one of them might not make it out of Primatech. Whatever it was, she honestly didn't care, she just savored the feeling of his strong arms around her and found herself praying it wouldn't be the last time.

She rolled over to face him and he was surprised to see a small tear slide down her cheek. He immediately brushed it away with his thumb, suddenly finding that he hated to see her cry and trying his damnedest to understand why it bothered him so. "What's wrong, Claire?" he asked in a tone so soft and gentle it surprised even himself.

"There's something I have to tell you before we do this," she admitted, praying she'd have the strength to tell him.

"What is it?" he asked, concern present on his features.

"I lied to you the other night," Claire managed to choke out, finding that actually speaking the words she needed to speak wouldn't come as easily as she might have hoped.

His eyebrows rose in question, expecting her to finish, but when she didn't he finally asked, "Lied about what?"

Another tear slid from a perfectly blue eye. "About caring about you. I do. I've tried not to, to tell myself that I can't possibly have feelings for the man who tortured me, but I do and it won't go away."

She was crying now, her tears falling from her face and getting lost among the white sheets between them. And he hated himself for causing her tears. "Claire, you don't care about me. You're just scared right now and you've suffered a great loss. Its normal to grasp onto whatever you can."

She would have loved to believe him, but she knew it wasn't true. She had already tried the same arguments on herself to no avail. No, she cared about him because of the man he was underneath the guise of 'Sylar.' She cared because he was smart and he talked to her like an adult, not like a fragile child. He treated her with respect, he protected her, and he was the first person to believe she was more than just a cheerleader. She cared about him because even though his flaws were horrible and ran deep, she was flawed too.

"No Sylar, that's not it. I think I'm fa-"

"Don't say that, Claire. Don't say something you don't mean and will regret as soon as this is all over," he cut her off. He wasn't sure if he was trying to spare her or himself, but either way he knew she couldn't mean what her young mind thought, and he didn't deserve that kind of affection from anyone, least of all a goddess like herself.

"I don't expect you to feel the same way, but if you won't let me say it, at least let me show it," she said with resolution as she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her, crashing her lips against his.

His brain was quickly losing a fight with his body as he struggled to think of reasons to stop what he was doing and not ravage the gorgeous young woman who was kissing him. In the end, he decided this was no time to suddenly get honorable and if she wanted this, he would give it to her.

All of the restraint was gone. At his core, _this _was who he was. He was the man who would steal the last piece of innocence from Claire Bennet.

With that thought, he shifted his position so that he was on top of her, her delicate frame pinned beneath him and squirming delightfully against him and his growing desire.

"I'm sorry, Claire," Sylar rasped against her mouth, his hands already traveling across her body, savoring every contour.

Claire's head fell to the side, her hair dragging across the pillow as she exposed her neck to his lips and tongue. "Don't apologize. Just...don't _stop."_

As if he could.

His hands flattened and dragged upwards along the smooth, toned length of her thighs and he felt the lace that had been tormenting him the previous night against her hips. Sylar's mouth slanted over Claire's, his tongue determined to eat the small sounds she was making, swallowing them deep into his throat. Claire's fingers clutched at the back of his neck, so overwhelmed with what he was making her feel, she could do nothing but hold onto him.

His name escaped her lips in a strangled moan as a hand slid under her nightgown, sliding dangerously high on her thigh. Her hips raised into his hand, silently urging him forward and telling him everything with her body she couldn't say with her mouth. He took the hint as he hand continued its ascent, trailing fire with his touch as his fingers skimmed across her flesh.

As quickly as his fingers touched her skin, they were gone and Claire was immediately afraid that he changed his mind, decided he didn't want anything with her, but when she opened her eyes and saw the way he was looking at her, all doubts were quickly removed.

Slowly and carefully, he slid the nightgown up over her body, she leaned up to allow him to remove it completely and in moments, it was discarded on the floor, barely a memory as his eyes took in her form, clad only in pink cotton panties.

She was beautiful. No, that was an understatement. She was exquisite, so much so that his breath caught in his throat at just the sight of her gloriously tan skin, her pair of perfect breasts, the dip in her stomach. Feeling the last of his restraint melt, he lowered his head to her breasts, kissing the exposed flesh, his tongue darting out to taste her.

She moaned and squirmed underneath him, the fire in her belly becoming too much for her young and inexperienced body to handle. She ran her hands over his bare shoulders, surprised at how his skin could be so soft while the muscles were beneath were hard. Like silk stretched over steel. He was gorgeous. The face that once caused her terror now caused delightful little feelings in her stomach and just feeling his muscles flex under her touch as he shifted his position was enough to make her hot.

"Tell me what you want," Sylar rasped against the skin of her breast, finally taking a perfect pink nipple between his lips.

"You know what I want," she answered, her voice almost a growl, her patience growing exceedingly thin.

"I want to hear you say it. Tell me," he urged, not sure if he needed to hear the words to ease his conscious, for his own pleasure, or because some part of him needed validation. Needed to know that someone in the world wanted him.

"I want you," she finally gasped, her breaths coming out in pants between her words. "I want all of you."

Nothing had ever made him feel the way her words did. He wasn't sure if it was just part of the moment, part of his desperate need to take her or if it was something more. Maybe it was that she accepted him, all of him, something nobody had ever done before. He didn't care, he just knew he needed to feel her around him.

His mouth continued to work her over, moving from one breast to the other and Claire thought she would die right there if she didn't get some kind of release for the pressure threatening to consume her. His hand snaked down and dipped just below the waistband of her panties, trailing down and taking them with her. In moments, she was blissfully naked beneath him.

Moving at an almost frantic pace, Sylar kicked off his pants, leaving himself completely bare before her young eyes, but he didn't give her time to look as he positioned himself at her entrance.

He stopped suddenly, searching his face for any signs of hesistation and a thought suddenly occurred him, one he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of before. "Claire, are you a virgin?"

She nodded beneath him, almost shyly and he felt his insides swell.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked carefully, not fully sure he could stop but needing to know.

He stared down at her, his gaze so intense Claire briefly wondered if he'd acquired heat vision at some point. Nobody had ever looked at her the way he was now and it was mesmerizing. Watching him watch her, she realized there was more to the look than just desire. His eyes were swirling with emotion, real emotion and at that moment, she knew she wanted him more than anything.

"Yes."

And with that single syllable, he slid inside her, pushing slowly to cause her as little pain as possible. He met her resistance and waited for her to adjust to him, beads of sweat already dotting his forehead, his restraint driving him insane.

A moment later, he gave a single, hard thrust and they were completely connected. As much as a man and woman could possibly be.

The emotion in the air was palpable, Claire was certain she could reach out and actually grasp it, she could see it, in his eyes, in her eyes reflecting in his eyes. She knew instinctively that this was more than just a tryst. The feelings were so intense, the feeling of him filling her so completely, the feeling of knowing he wanted her, the feeling that hung in the air between them, filling the air and making it so thick she could hardly breath.

It felt right. It felt like fate. And neither of them had to say what they already knew to be true.

His pace quickened, thrusting into her with all the unbridled passion she made him feel. She was softer than anything he'd ever felt and her warmth was pushing him over the edge. He could hear her whimpers turn into moans as he drove into her, stroking her from the inside out. His name played on her lips as she felt a tightness coil in her stomach, pressure building at a rapid pace, causing an explosion of pleasure to course through her as she reached her climax. Every nerve in her body screamed as her hands grasped at his hair.

Feeling her muscles tighten around him, he gave a final, hard thrust before his own orgasm washed over him, causing his every muscle to tremble in the wake of their passion.

They laid there for several minutes, not moving an inch for fear of breaking the spell they were both caught in. A thin layer of sweat covered their bodies, the only barrier between their skin, his forehead rested against hers as they both tried desperately to catch their breath.

Sylar finally moved, shifting and pulling out of her as he rolled onto his side, taking her with him and wrapping his arms around her.

"Thank you," she whispered, lifting her face to look at him, her hair falling against his chest. He turned his face toward her and placed a chaste kiss against her forehead, using his free hand to brush stray hair from her face.


	5. Chapter 5

They both wished they could lie in each other's arms forever, but reality set in much too soon, reminding them of what they had to do.

"It's not too late to back out," Sylar reminded her, a hand tangled in her golden locks as her head lay against his chest.

"We have to do this, now more than ever," Claire argued. "If we ever want to have some peace, the Company can no longer exist. As long as they are around, they're going to chase us."

"I can keep you safe," he promised, hoping she'd see it his way. Not that he wasn't up for a good fight, he desperately wanted to spill some Company blood, but more than that, he wanted her to be safe.

"I know, and I know you'll keep me safe today," she told him before untangling herself from the sheets and leaving the warmth of the bed, heading to the dresser to find clothes.

She dressed quickly, pulling on tight-fitting black pants and a simple black tank top. Turning to find Sylar hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, she tossed his jeans at him. "Come on, we don't have a lot of time," she told him as she fished a black boot from under the bed.

Sylar reluctantly removed himself from the bed and tugged on his jeans. Claire turned to see him pulling a tank top over his head and thinking it was a shame he had to hide that gorgeous body. But she shook those thoughts out of her head. This was a time she could not let her silly teenage hormones get in the way. She had to keep her mind clear and focused on the task at hand. After it was over, she'd have the luxury of figuring out exactly what was going on between them and what sort of future, if any, they'd have.

They finished dressing and went to work on the next phase of the plan: disguises. Their faces were, unfortunately, two of the most infamous around Primatech. Claire because of her father and Sylar because of the trail of bodies that followed him.

Claire pulled on the wig she had purchased a few days earlier, taking care to make sure every strand of blonde was hidden behind the brunette curls of the wig. She then went to work on her makeup, applying cherry red lipstick to her normally rosy lips, thick, black mascara and heavy eyeshadow to her eyes, hoping it would make her look older, and it did, albeit like a prostitute.

She turned to see Sylar already had his wig on, a mess of blonde hair that Claire thought made him look like someone she'd see at the beach carrying a surfboard and the layer of stubble that always graced his cheeks, giving him what she thought was an edgy look, was gone, revealing the baby smooth skin of his face.

"I like you better as a blonde," he said playfully, touching a strand of her brown curls.

"I like you better as a brunette," she countered with a playful smile as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup.

Sylar put the last piece of his disguise in place, a pair of large, dark sunglasses that covered his thick, black eyebrows and they were ready.

*

It had been decided that Sylar would go in first, in case he was recognized, at least he'd have the chance to fight his way out. So, Claire watched from a safe distance, on the side of the building, just out of the line of sight of the security camera, but close enough so that she could see him.

He approached the building, carrying a plastic bag filled with food, from the Company's favorite delivery restaurant. Claire held her breath as she watched him enter the building, she turned quickly, taking care to stay clear of the camera, and looked through the window just above her.

Sylar approached the main desk and held up the bag, his lips were moving, the guard at the desk laughed and pointed to the elevator. As her accomplance walked to the elevator, he glanced at the window, the one he she'd be watching and gave a slight nod.

Good, he was in. Now it was her turn.

Claire walked to the front of the building and took a deep breath before pulling open the main door. She tried her best to look tired and upset and approached the main desk, taking quick steps until she was there.

The guard glanced up from his crossword puzzle and his eyes widened visibly at the sight of her. "Well, hello there, ma'am. What can I do to for you?"

Claire gave him a quick once-over. He was a small, middle-aged man, his dark hair was greasy and unkept, a thick pair of glasses were perched on his eyes, giving his eyes the appearance of being four times larger than a normal humans. He was the classic geek in every sense of the word and she imagined he had little to no idea of what went on just three floors beneath their feet.

She smiled sweetly at him, batting her eyelashes a few times for good measure. "I'm afraid my car broke down just a few miles north of here and would you believe it, my cell phone is dead. Is there any way you could call a tow truck me? I would just appreciate it so much." She accented every word with a deep, southern drawl, making her voice sound as though sugar were dripping from every syllable from her lips.

"Oh yes, ma'am, I'd be very happy to help," he told her excitedly, picking up the phone from its cradle. His brow creased in confusion as he pressed a few buttons. "That's funny, it was working just a minute ago," he mumbled.

"Is there a problem, sugar?" Claire asked, reminding him of her presence. She knew there was a problem, had made sure there was a problem. What the man didn't know was that minutes before, he turned his head just long enough for Sylar to use his telekinesis to cut the phone line just under the desk.

"Oh, um, well the phone is dead," he told her, scratching his head in confusion. "I tell you what, take the elevator just over there up one floor. Take a left and go down the hallway just a bit until you come to the third office on the left. The man there, Jack, should have a phone you can use."

"Well, thank you so much," Claire told him, adding, "I'll be sure to stop by on my way out to thank you properly."

She turned and headed for the elevator, leaving the poor guard with his jaw nearly hitting the desk under him.

Claire stepped into the elevator, but instead of following the man's directions, she pushed the button to take her one floor down. It hummed and began its decent and within moments, she arrived on B1. She stepped out and took a quick glance around, even though she knew it would be empty.

She trotted down the hall and slipped into a small supply closet, finding Sylar already waiting for her just as she knew he would be. So far, everything had gone to plan, but this was where things got infinitely more complicated. From here on, there would be guards with tasers, guns, and superpowers who would be hell bent on making sure Claire and Sylar never saw the light of day again.

Claire found Sylar's blonde wig at her feet and the sunglasses next to it and looked up to see he was back to being Sylar. Following suit, she tossed her wig to the floor and ran a hand through her long, golden locks, smoothing it out.

"You ready for this?" he asked her from his position leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

She nodded and checked her watch, they were right on time. "We have to go now."

And they did. They snuck from the closet and walked the few steps to the staircase. Just as the door clicked shut behind them, Sylar heard the elevator doors open, the first shift of guards leaving for the day.

They scrambled down the stairs until they reached the desired floor, B3. From here on out, there would be no need for stealthy movements or disguises. Now it was just a matter of exerting more force than they did and reached the target location before getting injured or trapped.

They had anticipated one of two things had happened since Claire's last visit. Either they had beefed up security to ensure that was the first and last breakout or they were shorthanded, sending all available man-power to search for the escaped serial killer and accomplice. Claire prayed it was the latter as she swung open the door to the staircase.

They were in a hallway now, though this one visibly different from the other. The first hallway had looked like any other in an office building, tiled floors, beige wallpaper with wood trim. This one was cement, the entire structure, was nothing but concrete and Claire couldn't help but notice the blood stains lining the floor. She knew there would be substantially more when they were through.

Sylar went right and Claire followed on his heels, having no idea at this point which direction led where. They pushed through a set of double doors and Claire was briefly reminded of a hospital, until she noticed the giant metal lock on the other side, signifying whoever was there wasn't getting out easily.

After a few moments, they met their first set of guards. Sylar threw up both hands and Claire saw the guards crumple to the ground silently, both men clutching their throats. She felt a pang of guilt, but it quickly dissipated when the memory of holding her brother's bloody body came back to her.

They stepped over the men's now still bodies and continued their movements, Sylar taking out security cameras as they went with little effort. Six guards and twelve cameras later, they arrived at a door that was massively large, "WARNING" painted in bright red letters across it, the words "high voltage" printed just below it.

Sylar had explained that the Company's extracurricular activities were power by a large generator to keep their activities off the grid and confined to their building. The generator was powered by an internal combustion engine which created gases at a high pressure and given Sylar's native ability of intuitive aptitude, if he was given just a moment to examine it, he'd know exactly how to use it to their advantage.

Sylar entered the room while Claire stayed just outside the generator room, keeping watch for potential signs of trouble. He was in the room a few minutes before he exited, telling her he was ready.

Now, they just had to get the prey into the trap and all would be well. Conveniently located on the wall next to them, was a big, red button. Claire pushed it and was rewarding with the immediate flashing of red lights located along the ceiling and the loudest and most annoying alarm ever conceived by man.

And with their work done, they ran. They both knew the guards would be scrambling now, searching for intruders or escapees and shooting to kill, they just hoped they could reach the exit without too much trouble.

Unfortunately, as they rounded the corner, they were met with three dozen guards, each complete with body armor, face masks, and rather large guns. Claire ducked behind Sylar instinctively, while he simply raised both hands, a sinister smile gracing his face, and relieved every man of their weapons.

The guards stood dumbfounded for a moment as their guns flew across the hallway and collided with the wall behind Sylar and Claire. Sylar saw that as the opportune moment to attack and started by flinging energy balls as fast as possible. Guards began dropping to the floor, blood staining the concrete under their bodies.

At that moment, a loud explosion rocked the building, making the concrete shake and crumble around them. Sylar and Claire exchanged a look, knowing their plan had worked and the generator had just exploding, demolishing most of the level and killing most of the agents whose control room was conveniently located just behind the room that housed the generator.

"Claire, run, I can handle this," he told her, his voice forceful and leaving no room for argument, so she ran while he continued his brutal attack on the unarmed men.

When the last guard hit the floor in a bloody heap, Sylar turned to follow Claire out but the sight that was before him made him stop dead.

"Elle," he spat, his distaste for her evident.

The blonde woman before him was holding Claire by her hair, a large knife positioned at the younger woman's throat.

"Sylar, I didn't take you for a cradle robber," she drawled sarcastically, her eyes traveling down her body.

"Let her go." His voice was venomous, enough to cause any normal person to run, tail between their legs.

But Elle only laughed, pressing the knife deeper into Claire's throat. "So I am right, you like this girl. Do you think she can heal if I cut her head off?"

Sylar's face betrayed no emotion other than anger as he glared at her, his mind already calculating the best course of action. Deep down, he was afraid, a feeling that he hadn't felt for so many years, it caught him off guard. He honestly didn't know if Claire could recover from something so severe, but he certainly wasn't going to test it out.

"What do you see in her? She's just a child. Don't you want to trade up for a real woman?" Elle asked him, the innuendo clear from her tone.

"Sorry, you're not my type," Sylar told her calmly before telekinetically ripping the knife from her grasp and sending it into her chest.

A large gasp escaped her throat as she crumpled to the ground, blood staining her white shirt. Sylar knew it wasn't a lethal blow, if the other guard's found her in time, she'd survive. But at that point, his only concern was getting Claire out safely, so he ran to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her down the hall.

The door to the staircase was in sight now, they were actually going to make it out. Or so they thought.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a voice called out from behind them.

The pair turned, meeting their opponents face to face. Before Sylar or Claire could respond or even get a good look at the agents, Sylar hit the floor, gasping for air and clutching his stomach.

"What did you do to him?" Claire asked as she knelt by her partner, cradling his head in her lap.

"My friend and I, we have certain abilities," the man said calmly. Claire finally looked up to see their were two agents, a man and woman, as the man continued. "They call mine disintegration and right now, his stomach and intestines are disintegrating. He'll heal, of course, but it will take some time."

Claire was livid, so much so that her vision began bleeding red and she charged at the pair, using everything Sylar had taught her that week. She swung hard at the man's face, but he ducked, luckily Claire had anticipated that and as he ducked her fist, his face collided with her knee cap.

Blood spilled from his nose, staining his shirt red, and he looked up at her with a mixture of anger and amusement. Claire kicked him in the ribs and again in the kneecap, before he finally fell to the ground, broken and bloody.

Claire turned to the female agent and moved to kick her, but recoiled when her foot hit what felt like a solid wall. She stepped forward, hands extended, feeling the invisible wall that had her trapped.

"You didn't give us a chance to explain what my abilities are. As you can already see, I can generate force fields strong enough to protect me from a round of bullets or hold someone captive.

Claire's look of shock melted to relief when she saw Sylar beginning to rise from the floor. He had heard the woman's explanation of her powers and was moving toward her slowly, determined to get Claire free. But just as he was within feet of Claire, the fallen agent began to stir, raising an arm at Sylar, preparing to attack.

"Sylar, run. Just run," Claire told him, knowing it was over. If the man succeeded in using that ability on Sylar again, the woman would have time to capture him as well. "If you don't, we'll both be stuck here. You don't have the time or strength to take them both."

Claire put on a brave face, blinking back tears as she met his eyes, seeing the desperation and anger clouding his usually clear dark orbs. "Go," she told him, and he did. He ran, through the door and up the staircase. He hated running from them. He felt like a coward and even worse, a betrayer.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a full day since their attack on the Company and Claire's capture. She had been pleasantly surprised to learn the extent of the damage their work had done. Apparently the room with the generator and the control room had shared a wall. The explosion had taken out over half the agents who had been on the premises and all their computers, some of the data gone for good, though most was stored on backup servers.

She had also learned that Sylar had escaped and that knowledge couple with the fact it would take years for the company to recover some of the intel they had lost, were the only things that kept Claire's spirits up as she sat in her cell, one of the few that hadn't been destroyed.

It was exactly like the one she had found Sylar in just a week early. Three cement walls, a toilet and a cement slab for a bed, with the remaining wall being made of five-inch thick plexiglass. Completely shatterproof, they had told her. She had laughed.

Like that would stop him.

They had spent nearly sixteen of her twenty-four hours there questioning her. Almost all of it about Sylar. Why she broke him out? What had they been doing? Were they sleeping together? It was ridiculous and exhausting and she was sure the last was only to get under her skin. She hadn't allowed it to, asking the agent he was jealous. He stormed out of the room. Claire smiled.

She had certainly gained a load of confidence in the past few weeks. Even an arrogance comparable to her partner.

Another agent stepped into the room, this one different from the last, not surprisingly. He sat in one of two metal folding chairs in the center of the room, set their specifically for interrogation. He motioned for her to sit in the other, and she did, choosing to let the little things slide.

"Miss Bennet, my name is Trevor," he introduced himself, already seeming to be more polite than anyone she had encountered. She was also surprised to find he was younger than the others, probably in his mid-twenties, and attractive with brilliant green eyes, wavy brown hair, and a strong, chiseled jaw. His skin was smooth and tan, his nose straight and perfect. If they had been there under different circumstances, she would have thought he was hot. Not quite on the same level as Sylar, but still gorgeous in a boy-next-door kind of way.

"Look, I'm going level with you. They only sent me in here because they thought you'd be more receptive to someone closer to your age. But here's the thing, I read your file, I know why you did what you did and I don't want to see you get hurt," he told her, his voice smooth and calm, conveying his honesty. "So please, just answer my questions."

When she nodded, signifying she would play along, he asked his first question. "I know the answer to this one, but I need to hear you say it, so why did you choose to attack us?"

"Your Company killed my brother," she answered, her voice icy yet indifferent.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his tone soft and genuine. "Why did you release a dangerous level 5 inmate?"

"He's the only person capable of doing what I needed done."

"Given your history with him, you weren't afraid he would hurt or kill you?"

"No," she answered, but seeing he was waiting for an explanation, she continued, "Last time we met, he told me he couldn't kill me even if he wanted to."

"And you believed him?"

"He had no reason to lie."

Trevor nodded, agreeing with her statement and scribbling down the answer she provided before moving on to the next question. "Claire, I know this is personal and none of my business, but were you having an affair with Sylar?"

"Why does that matter?" Claire asked, visibly annoyed with this new line of questioning.

Trevor shrugged. "I guess they want to know how a girl like you could go for a guy that terrorized her and her family and cut her head open. They think you might've been brainwashed or something."

"I wasn't brainwashed and I wasn't sleeping with him," she lied, hoping that would be the end of their stupid questions.

"Do you love him?" Trevor questioned, staring at her intently.

"Now why does that matter?" she asked, her voice raised in slight anger.

"It doesn't matter to them," he told her, "I was just curious."

Claire's forehead creased in confusion, but answered anyway, "No and why do you care?"

"Let me help you, Claire. You don't belong here. You aren't dangerous, you're just hurt and angry and I don't want to see what happens to the others happen to you," he explained, his green eyes sparkling with sincerity.

"Thanks, but I don't need your help," she replied icily, not falling for his boyish charm for a second.

"You think he's coming for you?" he asked knowingly.

"I don't know."

*

Sylar paced the hotel room he'd call home for a little over a week. His hair was disheveled, his overall appearance haggard. His things were already packed and sitting on the floor by the door, ready for his departure.

He checked his watch. He should've already left, but his mind was at war with itself. A part of him wanted to leave, put this whole ordeal in the past, and move on with his life.

But then he would flashback to that night. He would see her beneath him, hair splayed across the pillow, eyes clouded with lust, lips red and swollen, skin flushed. He could feel her skin, feel her around him, and the worst was the words that played over and over in his head, torturing him.

That night, in that moment, he was the only thing she wanted and she accepted him. She knew who he was, knew his past, and she accepted him. The question that kept plaguing him was did he want her too? The thought of the company experimenting on her, torturing her, drove him into a murderous rage, but at the same time, he didn't want that fate for himself either.

His brain, his instincts, were telling him to run. Leave her. Let the Petrellis save her. It wasn't his fight. It wasn't his job to save her. He wasn't a hero, this wasn't the time to pretend he was.

But he was her hero. Her protector. He had promised to keep her safe and he failed. She stayed to help him when she could have run and when the roles were reversed, he ran like a coward. He left her. Failed her. She accepted him.

"Dammit!" he screamed into the empty room, his eyes scanning the room as his mind ran rampant. Until his eyes fell upon something that made his breath catch, made his thoughts stop.

There, on the bed, was the nightgown she had worn that night. The one he had taken off of her. And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

His mind was made up. He was going to save the cheerleader.

*

Five days had passed, each one as pleasant as the one before it. Claire was sitting in the same chair, facing the same man, answering the same questions. The monotony was really starting to get to her.

"Do you think he cares about you?" Trevor asked her, his notepad and pen ready to jot down whatever she said.

"No."

"But he did this with you, spent a week with you, why do you think he doesn't care?"

"Because he's Sylar." She found it was easiest to keep her answers short and simple, giving them as little information as possible while satisfying them. She had already answered all of these ridiculous questions several times before, but they wouldn't let it go.

Trevor, the Company, they seemed fascinated with the idea that she had spent a week with Sylar and survived. Even moreso when the events leading to her capture had been relayed, implying that the two may harbor feelings for each other.

She didn't feel like being a pawn in their little game, so she told them exactly what they expected to hear. Sylar was a cold-blooded killer who didn't care about anyone. She also hoped that in the off-chance he did feel like showing up, they wouldn't be expecting him.

"But he helped you," Trevor pointed out.

"Is there a question there?" Claire asked with as much disinterest as humanly possible.

"Why did he help you if he doesn't care about you?"

"It was mutually beneficial."

"Do you feel guilty for releasing a killer into the world?" Trevor asked, a hint of accusation in his voice, but a desperate need to understand in his emerald orbs.

"What do you want from me? I've already answered all these ridiculous questions a hundred times! For the last time, I wasn't fucking Sylar and we don't give a damn about each other. Let it go!" She was shouting, her body quivering in anger.

"I can't let it go because you're lying, Claire! You're words say one thing, but your actions tell an entirely different story," Trevor told her, his voice growing louder with every word. "You say you don't care about him, but you held him when he was injured, told him to run and save himself. Why would you do that if you don't give a fuck about him?"

"Because I'm human! I don't have to be fucking someone to care if they get hurt! I don't have to be in love with him to tell him to do the smart thing and get out!" she screamed, jumping from her seat and knocking the chair over in the process.

"Fine, you don't care about him. I get it. But what about him? Is he in love with you, Claire?" he asked, standing from his seat and stepping closer to her, looking down at her.

"Don't be stupid."

"What about the way he reacted when Elle had you? Do you think he'd do that if he doesn't care?"

"Yes, because he hates Elle," Claire answered, shrugging her shoulders.

Trevor let out a long sigh. He was getting nowhere and he knew it. "Damnit Claire, don't be so difficult. They're going to do whatever it takes to get answers from you and I don't want you to get hurt."

He reached out to her, putting a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but she shrugged it off. "Let them try."

"Claire, please. Tell me the truth," he pleaded, desperation in his tone, his voice cracking slightly.

"Not until you tell me the truth," she countered. "Why is this so important to them, really?"

Trevor sighed, defeated, "They spent years trying to find him, months trying to break him, and got nothing. They need to find his weakness, his Achilles heal, and they think it might be you."

"They want to use me against him?"

"There's more, Claire," he told her grimly. "They found out where you were staying and sent Sylar a message, testing out their new theory. They told him that if he came here, they would let you go. If not," he paused, apparently having trouble saying what he had to. "If not, they were going to cut you into pieces so you couldn't heal."

Claire recoiled, shocked by Trevor's words, and took a moment to process them. "They told Sylar that if he didn't take my place here, they would kill me? And let me guess, Sylar didn't come?"

He nodded in reply and reached out to her once again, this time successfully draping an arm over her shoulders and pulling her into an embrace. "Let me save you," he whispered into her hair.

Tears trailed down her cheek, no matter how desperately she tried to keep them from falling. She didn't know why she was crying. She didn't blame him, didn't expect him to sacrifice himself for her, but for some reason, her chest ached, as if a weight was pushing down on it, crushing her.

She was in pain and when Trevor leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, she was too surprised to push him away.

And as fate would have it, at that particular moment, alarms started blaring and the door exploded inward. It smashed into the wall just to the left of where Trevor and Claire were stand, shocking them out of their kiss.

Claire looked up at the whole where the door had been and her face went pale.

"Sylar." It came out as just a whisper, but both men heard clearly.

The color immediately drained from Trevor's face and he was silently praying Claire had been telling the truth, praying Sylar didn't care about her at all, because if he did, Trevor was as good as dead.

Claire's eyes shot from Sylar to Trevor and back again, realizing what Sylar must be thinking and not being able to look away from the pain clouding the dark eyes she had come to love.

Before Claire could utter another syllable, Trevor was thrown against the wall, grasping at his throat, his legs wriggling uselessly under him. Claire gasped in shock and fear and ran to Sylar, grabbing his arms when she reached him.

"Sylar, I'm sorry. Please let him go. I'm so sorry. It's not what you think," she was babbling, almost incoherently, tears now streaming down her face.

Sylar stood, unmoving, murder in his eyes as he glared at the man dangling from the wall, caught in his invisible grasp. "I should've left you here," he finally said, so coldly Claire shivered.

Trevor whimpered behind her and she raised a hand to Sylar's face, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at her. "Sylar, it was a mistake. I made a mistake, I'm human and I'm sorry. I thought you didn't care about me, and I was hurt, but I don't care about him, I don't feel anything for him."

"Then you won't care if I kill him," Sylar stated, using her words against her as he squeezed his fist together tighter.

"Sylar, don't do it. I know you're better than this. I've seen the good in you," she argued, hoping to get through to him in time.

"You're wrong, Claire," he screamed at her, losing concentration and dropping Trevor to the floor. His head turned suddenly, hearing the guards heading towards them, and from the sound of it, a lot of them. Sylar grabbed Claire's wrist and pulled her out of the room, "We have to get out of here. Now."

Claire didn't need anymore persuasion; she followed after him, her hand still in his. They raced down the familiar hallway, ducking gunfire as they did until they reached the staircase. Sylar blew through the door, once again utilizing his favorite ability, and they raced through it, bullets still coming at them and one catching Claire in her thigh.

She fell to the floor, hard, clutching her leg and waiting for it to start healing. "We don't have time for this," Sylar told her before scooping her up from the floor and charging up the stairs.

They didn't stop running until they reached the motorcycle, where they took a brief moment to catch their breath before hopping on the bike and taking off.

Miles of road were between them and Primatech before Claire realized they weren't being followed. Maybe they finally decided it was more trouble than they were worth. Or perhaps they were simply going to bide their time and wait for a more opportune moment. Claire didn't care the reason, she was happy for the moment's peace.

The ride was calming, the sound of the engine the only one they could hear while the wind whipped against them, like an invisible blanket.

Claire knew it was the calm before the storm.

She decided to enjoy it, she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance again, so she held tighter to Sylar, feeling the hardness of his chest beneath her hands, and rested her face against his back.

He seemed to not even notice as he drove.

After what seemed like an eternity, Claire felt them slowing down and eventually stopping. She looked up to see they were in the middle of nowhere, a field to the left, another to the right and no people or buildings in sight for miles. Anyone else would have been terrified. She was just prepared.

Without turning around or getting off the bike, he said, "Get off."

Claire suddenly realized she wasn't as prepared as she originally thought. She was stunned. "Are you seriously going to take _my _motorcycle and leave me here?"

"I'm not going to fight with you. Just get off," he told her, managing to keep his voice relatively calm.

Claire, on the other hand, let her anger show, once again wrapping her arms around his chest and throwing them both to the ground. She landed on top of him, straddling his hips, and reared back her fist, hoping to connect with his nose but instead finding her wrist locked in his grip.

"How can you be so mean? How can you just leave me here?" she screamed at him, jerking her wrist from his grasp and climbing to her feet. She turned her back on him, refusing to let him see that she was crying yet again.

He rushed to his and grabbed her, spinning her around until they were face to face, "I'm _mean?_ Claire, I risked everything to save you from that place and I find you kissing one of them. How do you think that makes me feel?" He was screaming at her. Actually screaming and it was the greatest show of emotion she'd ever witnessed from him. She would have been touched at how much she affected him if she weren't so damn pissed off.

"I don't know how it makes you feel because I'm not a telepath! I don't know what you think or what you feel and you sure as hell won't tell me!" She was in a rage.

So was he. "Damn it Claire, I don't know what I feel and unfortunately telepathy isn't one of my skills either, but seeing your tongue in some other guy's mouth is a good indication of how you feel."

"I told you I didn't care about him, why can't you listen to me?"

"Because you're just a girl who thought it would be fun to play with a killer for a few days. You're so fucking clueless and naïve you can't even see what's right in front of you. I was wrong about you, you're still just a child." It was low, especially for him, he was never one to resort to petty insults, but he was so angry, he couldn't think properly.

"I'm a _child_?! Does that make you a pedophile then? Because you didn't have any problems with it the other night. What is it I'm missing that's right in front of me? Is it that you're an asshole who spent the week trying to sleep with me and when I finally gave it up, you're done with me?" She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. She was angry, yes, and he was certainly acting like an asshole, but she knew that out of everything he had done, he had not used her for sex. In fact, he had risked his freedom to save her and she was the one who betrayed him.

He didn't even dignify it with a response, he just turned and headed for the bike. She was torn between letting him go and saying the one thing she hoped would make him stay.

"Sylar, I love you."

Silence filled the gap between them, torturing Claire as she held her breath, waiting for his response. Seconds felt like hours before he finally spoke.

"Don't do this, Claire. Don't say things you don't mean just because you're scared. You might think I'm a monster, but I'm still a man," he sounded so defeated, Claire's heart ached and his words cut her to the bone.

"You're not a monster. You're a good man."

He finally turned, facing her but not meeting her eyes. "You're wrong, Claire. The only good in me is you."

His words struck her like nothing before ever had and she decided to tell him the truth. The whole truth. "Sylar, at first, I didn't think you were capable of redemption. I hated you, hated being around you and felt guilty for setting you free. But then I got to know you, the real you and I saw that you are so much more than what anyone knows. And I started falling for you, but I fought it. Hating myself for caring about someone who tried to hurt me, who killed so many people. The other night, I realized it didn't matter. None of it matters because when I'm with you, you're the only thing I care about. And that night, what we had, it was special, it meant something."

She let out a long sigh after finishing her short narrative, praying that he could forgive her, love her, and want to be with her. He slowly raised his head until his eyes finally found hers, searching them and finding overwhelming emotion hiding in her blue eyes. Finally, his feet began moving, taking determined steps towards her and when he got there, he buried his fingers in her hair, and pulled her to him forcefully.

When their lips met, the world melted away. All Claire could feel was his lips against hers, his hands on her skin and the love that consumed them.

Love.

It wasn't an alien feeling to Claire, but love like this, passionately breath-taking and all consuming, that was new. And it was welcome. She knew the road in front of them would be a long one, filled with struggle and pain, but as long as they had each other, the world around them didn't matter. Everything would be okay.

She would cling to that ideal like it was her lifeline in the coming days. Even if it was just a thinly veiled illusion she created to keep a semblance of normalcy.

* * *

A/N: This isn't the end, but I'm not entirely sure where I want to go from here. Just a warning that there may be a little wait for the next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know I said this would take a while, but surprisingly, my little bout with writer's block disappeared pretty easily. Especially thanks to tonight's wonderful episode. I don't think I could've possibly been happier with it, since the two things I've hated this season are most likely over. Yay! Anyway, this chapter isn't much, really just a bridge, but I hope you guys like it. Thanks for all the reviews!

* * *

Sylar looked down at the girl in his arms. This was completely insane. He knew it was. He knew it made absolutely no sense, defied all odds, and would be anything but easy. She should hate him. He should hate her.

He had never previously been the forgiving type. In fact, he was the type to hold a grudge until the opportunity to spill blood presented itself. But when he looked into her ridiculously deep blue eyes, saw the tears threatening to spill out as she confessed her feelings to him, something inside him broke. He gave in.

Because really, how could he hold one little indiscretion against her, especially when she wasn't technically his, when he had nearly killed her. If she could forgive him of everything he had done, certainly he could forgive her.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked against his chest.

"That's the beauty of it, Claire. Anywhere we want."

She hesitated. Claire knew where she wanted to go. Had to go. But she knew he wouldn't like the idea and truthfully, neither did she. "I need to go see my parents."

Sylar sighed. "I know." He'd been dreading those words. Not because he was afraid of Noah Bennet. He wasn't afraid of anyone. He just didn't need the drama. But it had to be done.

*

A week later, after spending a wonderful five days in bed together, Sylar and Claire found themselves standing outside her front door.

"Um, so you should probably wait here," Claire told him nervously. There had been a large debate about whether he should come or go and whether or not they should tell Noah about their current status. In the end, it was decided that Noah had probably already gotten wind of it, so it was best to just come clean.

"Claire, it's not like he can kill me," Sylar replied in an exasperated tone. Though, when she shot him a glare, he nodded. "Alright, fine."

She took a deep breath and turned the knob. She wasn't sure what she expected to see. Common sense told her the blood would be gone by now, Lyle would be gone by now. But as she stepped over the threshold, he was all she could see.

"Claire." Her father's voice jolted her out of her memories and before she could even mutter a greeting, she was wrapped in a familiar pair of strong arms.

"Are you okay? We were so worried about you. What happened? Where have you been?"

Noah's questions were rolling out faster than Claire could process them. She took a deep breath, realizing how many of those she was going to need to get through this. Now, where to begin?

Claire didn't have much time to consider it before she heard the door open behind her. Noah threw her to the side in a millisecond and withdrew a gun from its holster at his side.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Noah growled, his gun trained on Sylar's head, eyes daring the other man to make a move.

Sylar didn't even respond, he just turned his head and gave Claire a smirk. "Sorry, I got bored."

"It's been like two minutes!"

Sylar shrugged. "I have a short attention span."

Noah's eyes darted back and forth between the two, trying to make sense of their little exchange.

"Honey, what's all the noi-? Claire? Oh my god, why is he here?"

Claire sighed once more. Apparently her mother had chosen the absolute worst moment to enter the conversation.

"Okay, calm down everyone. I can explain," Claire began. "Dad, seriously, it's okay. He's with me."

"What in the hell do you mean he's with you? Claire, he's a killer. You can't trust him," Noah argued, his gun still pointed at Sylar.

Claire glanced at Sylar to see his reaction. He looked amused. It annoyed the hell out of her. "I can trust him. Can't you trust me for once? I'm not a little girl anymore. I can make my own choices. Just give me a chance to explain."

Noah's expression stayed threatening, but after a few moments, he relaxed and lowered his weapon. He motioned for them to head towards the kitchen, taking care to not take his eyes off Sylar.

The strange group took seats around the kitchen table, each one exchanging glances with the next. It was tense, awkward, and nearly unbearable for Claire.

Apparently, Sandra was feeling it too, because instead of letting the silence reign on, she did what any southern woman would do. "Would anyone like something to drink? I'm just going to get some drinks."

Noah opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and let his wife play hostess. After clunking around the kitchen for a few moments, she returned to the table with four glasses in hand. She distributed the beverages and took her seat once more.

"Thank you," Sylar said from his seat next to Claire, trying to play the good guy for once.

All he got in return was an icy glare from Noah and a confused glance from Sandra.

"Okay, I guess I have some explaining to do," Claire began hesitantly, still trying to figure out how she was going to spin this tale for her folks. "After the Company took me, I caused an accident. Like with Brody. And I ran."

"Why didn't you come home, Claire?" her mother asked, not hiding the pain in her voice.

"So they could come back and kill one of you? I couldn't let that happen. Not again," Claire's voice was strained, telling the story hurt more than she anticipated. Sylar wanted to wrap an arm around her and pull her close, but knew it wouldn't go over well, so he just sat there.

"How does he fit into this?" Noah asked the question that had been plaguing him since their appearance.

"I wanted to stop them. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted revenge. I decided there was only one person who could help me with that. So I broke him out of Level 5."

"Wait a minute, you're telling me that you single-handedly helped the most dangerous person in Level 5 escape? And without getting killed or captured?" Noah's tone was incredulous, but nobody missed the pride seeping through either.

"She had some help," Sylar reminded them.

"Right, once he was out of his cell, it's not like they could stop us," Claire added, a hint of smile on her lips.

"Claire, didn't it occur to you that he might kill you?" Noah questioned.

"Of course. But I was confident that he wouldn't. I mean, he had the perfect opportunity before and he didn't do it. Why would he when I was helping him escape from the Company?"

Despite his rage, Noah had to admit she was right and he was surprised at how mature she had become. He didn't remember her being so calculating before, so wise, but he was proud.

"And once she told me what she had in mind, I was happy to help."

"So we spent the week hiding in a hotel room until we were ready." As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake and winced as she prepared for the inevitable.

"You spent a week, in a hotel room, with a serial killer?"

The words were exactly what she had expected. However, what she wasn't prepared for, was her mother glaring at her, face bright red with anger and eyeballs bulging from her face. Noah was supposed to be the one screaming maniacally at her right now.

"Sylar, you better tell me right now that you didn't lay a hand on my daughter," Noah's voice was low and venomous and though he'd never admit, Sylar was a tad bit intimidated. Just a tad.

"I…well…"

Claire couldn't believe it. Her father, the one without special powers, was making the most feared man in the world stutter. She would've laughed if murder wasn't clearly written across her father's face with her lover as the target.

"You _raped_ my daughter?!" Noah's voice was booming as he leapt to his feet. Claire was certain the windows were actually shaking and she found herself cowering.

"No, I would never do that to Claire." Sylar was on his feet now and Claire found herself sandwiched between two of the most intimidating men she had ever met.

She sighed as she stood and placed a hand on each man's chest, pushing them apart. "Dad, he didn't rape me. Sylar, calm down. Both of you, sit down."

Surprisingly, they both listened and took their seats, though not without glaring at each other.

"Claire, please tell me you didn't let this bastard touch you," Noah pleaded through clenched teeth. When she lowered her head without saying a word, he felt something inside crumble to pieces. "After everything he has done to you, to this family, all the people he's killed…how could you?"

"Dad please, he's not what you think he is. He protected me, he saved me. I didn't want it to happen. It just did." Claire's eyes were filling with tears as she begged her father to understand.

"You can stay here, with us, but you can never see him again. Ever," Noah's tone was final, absolute and Claire knew there was no arguing.

She nodded and stood, Sylar following suit. "I expected you to say that. I just came here so you'd know I was safe and so I could tell you I love you, but I'm staying with him."

Without another word uttered, Noah and Sandra Bennet watched their daughter walk out of their lives with the man they'd spent three years running from.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Sandra turned to her husband, eyes brimming with tears. "Noah, we can't lose her again. I can't lose another child."

"As much as I hate to say it, there isn't much we can do. Claire is a grown woman now and she has made her choices. She's chosen that monster over us." Noah's face was pale, his words cold and his tone icy.

"We can't just let her walk out! I'm not giving up on my child!" And with that, Sandra raced for the door, hoping to catch them in time.

She pulled the front door open and was relieved to see they were still in the driveway, though she was a little less than happy to see her baby girl wrapped in the arms of a killer.

"Claire, honey, don't leave yet. Give me a few minutes to talk to your father," Sandra called from the doorway.

Claire turned her head to see her mother and nodded through her surprise.

Sandra disappeared back into the house and found her husband still sitting at the kitchen table.

"I can not accept this," Noah said quietly, resolutely, without turning.

"I don't expect you to, but at the same time, you can't turn your back on your daughter again. Your job was always more important than her, you were never hear for her, for any of us and I will not let you push her away."

Noah rose from his seat, knocking the chair down in the process. "I was never here because I was trying to protect her from _him_. Now you expect me to be fine with the fact that she's sleeping with the man who tried to kill her?"

"Darn it, Noah, it's your fault! You made him, watched him become a killer and did nothing. Why don't you give Claire a chance to fix him?" Sandra challenged, her eyes glowing with determination.

"How do you know about that? Did you read my files?" Noah accused, eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses.

"I wanted to know what we were protecting her from. I couldn't believe it at first, that you just let him get so out of control, but I never mentioned it. Never blamed you. But right now, I don't care anymore. I just want my baby safe and let's face it, Noah, he can protect her far better than we ever could."

"Not if he's the one who going to hurt her," Noah argued, refusing to listen to his wife's reasoning.

"I know you and Claire don't think I know much about these…abilities, and I don't. But if there is one thing I do know, it's how a man looks at the woman he loves. And he loves her. The same way you love me."

"You can't possibly be comparing me to a serial killer."

"You are so stubborn. Just go out there and tell your daughter you love her."

Noah sighed. There was no arguing with that tone. He took careful, measured steps to the door and let out another sigh as he turned the knob.

When the door slid open, he saw his daughter, his beautiful little girl, sitting on a black motorcycle, smiling at his worst enemy. Her expression changed as soon as her eyes found him, she looked nervous, worried.

"Claire, you're my daughter and I love you. No matter what," Noah told her, his tone sincere and full of fatherly love.

She jumped from the bike and ran to her father. He was waiting with outstretched arms and scooped her up, savoring the moment.

"I love you too, Daddy."

Noah broke away from Claire and his eyes locked onto Sylar. "You and I need to have a talk."

Sylar simply nodded, having expected as much and followed as Noah motioned him to the side of the front yard.

"If you ever hurt her, if you cause her to feel one single ounce of pain, I will hunt you down and I will make sure you'll never heal again. Do you understand me?" Noah's words were final, his tone dangerous and his stance aggressive.

Sylar wasn't afraid, but he found he had the slightest bit of respect for this man. Doing whatever he could to protect his child, even at the cost of his own life. Sylar decided to cut him a break. "I understand."

*

"They are so predictable," Elle commented absently to her partner. "Little cheerleader just couldn't stay away from daddy."

"I just can't believe Noah isn't trying to kill that monster."

"You don't know fathers and daughters. Noah will do whatever he can to keep her, even if he has to embrace what he hates."

"It's disgusting."

Elle laughed. "You're just jealous she chose the bad guy over you."

Trevor met her gaze, his own stare hard and angry. "You're even more unbelievable. He killed your father and you practically throw yourself at him." He snorted in disgust.

"What do you think she did with that mouth before she kissed you?" Elle asked, a devilish gleam in her eyes and a smug, amused smile on her face.

Trevor shook his head. "That's disgusting. Claire would never do anything like that."

Elle laughed again. "And that's why she wants him. You're too much of a boy scout."

"And why do you want him? Because you're a psychopath?"

"Takes one to know one," she replied easily. "And he's hot."

"Better get those notions out of your head. We're here to capture them, not play matchmaker."


	8. Chapter 8

"You do realize we're being watched, right?" Sylar asked casually.

"Yes," Noah replied calmly. "Take Claire and go. I'll deal with them."

"I really think I should handle this," Sylar argued.

"The only job you have right now is to protect my daughter. Now go, I'll at least buy you enough time to lose them. And take my car."

Sylar nodded, knowing there was no winning that argument, and grabbed the key's with one hand and Claire's arm with the other, pulling her towards the car. "We have to go."

"What? Why? What did he say to you?" Claire questioned, her brow creased with concern.

"It's not him. I'll explain later."

Claire was confused, but knew his tone was serious and didn't leave room for argument, so she climbed in the passenger's seat and waved goodbye to her parents as they sped away.

Noah smiled at his daughter and headed directly for the black van parked across the street. The engine had just started when he pulled his gun from his side and fired once at the tire. He was rewarded with the sound of rushing air.

The door opened immediately a very angry blonde jumped out. "Damn it, Noah. What do you think you're doing?"

"I think I'm stopping you from going after my daughter," he answered smugly.

Electricity crackled from Elle's palms as she glared daggers at Noah. He just smiled. "What makes you think I won't kill you?"

"This," Noah answered, pressing his firearm to the side of Elle's head before she had a chance to react.

"You're no fun, you never were. Maybe that's why your little girl is with him right now instead of you," Elle mocked, lightning still crackling at her fingertips. Noah cocked his pistol. "Maybe I can help you with that."

Noah's eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if she was playing him. "I'm listening."

"It's simple. You need her, I want him. Now we just have to split them up."

"Yes, I am aware of that. The question is how," Noah replied. Why did he always feel like talking to Elle was like talking to a four-year-old?

"Claire thinks she's in love with him, right?" Noah nodded. "Well, then all we have to do is make her fall out of love with him," Elle explained.

"Again, how?"

"I don't think she'd still love him if he cheated on her, do you?" Elle's eyes had a positively psychotic look, one that Noah had seen too many times.

"Let me get this straight, you're going to seduce Sylar and break my daughter's heart?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Well, okay then."

*

Sylar pulled the car over at a small gas station. They'd been driving for six hours, were somewhere in Tennessee and had no idea where they were going. Claire ran inside to grab drinks and snacks, emerging moments later with a bag full of chips and candybars and two Cokes. She found Sylar leaned against the hood of her father's new black Mustang.

He had filled her in during the drive and together they had speculated Elle was the one after them. They knew she'd survived and would be the one gunning for them for the most.

"So where are we going?" Claire asked as she handed Sylar one of the drinks.

He unscrewed the top and took a long sip, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat before answering. "America's playground."

"Vegas?"

"Well, we're going to need more money eventually and it couldn't hurt to have some fun."

"Okay, I guess we're going to Vegas."

*

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Trevor asked with a sigh as he ran a hand through his wavy locks.

"As long as you can do your part," Elle answered from behind the steering wheel of their Company issued van complete with one new tire.

"Actually, I was referring to your part. I just really can't see a man choosing you over Claire," Trevor answered, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice.

"If you do what you're supposed to, he won't have a choice."

The monitor in front of Trevor beeped. "They're on the move again, heading west."

"Where in the hell are they going?" Elle murmured to herself, glad Trevor had taken the initiative to plant on bug on the car while Claire introduced mommy and daddy to her new lover.

*

After over 30 hours driving straight across the country, Sylar and Claire found themselves on the famous Vegas Strip. Claire couldn't hide her excitement as she took in the sights. She had never imagined a place could be so alive at two a.m. She suddenly understood the lure of a place like this.

Vegas was a city all to itself, no other like it in the world. Here it didn't matter who you were, what you were like, the only thing that mattered was that you were willing to take a chance. And could bankroll it, of course. Someone could get lost in a place like that, and it was no wonder to Claire that millions did every year.

They pulled up to an enormous resort, a valet immediately opened the door for Claire and welcomed her to the Montecito. She was in awe. The resort alone was possibly bigger than some cities and the lights and sounds were mesmerizing.

Sylar came up to her side and guided her inside with a hand on the small of her back. He was amused at how fascinated she was and it occurred to him just how sheltered she had been. Not that he had ever been to Vegas before, but he grew up in another concrete jungle that had its own wonders.

"I'll get us a room, why don't you go look around," Sylar told her as he headed for the front desk, leaving her alone in the entrance.

The place was incredible. Shops lined the left side of the room, everything from jewelry to golf clubs. She could hear the sounds of the casino ahead and there was a sign on the left wall that advertised the Aston Martin dealership. She walked over to a small table next to the sign and picked up a brochure that listed the restaurants, clubs and bars.

As she flipped through the pamphlet, taking in the glossy photos of card tables and swimming pools, Sylar walked up behind her.

"Ready?"

Claire turned to look at him and nodded. He pointed to the far side of the entryway to a set of elevators and Claire followed his lead.

Minutes later they stepped out onto the 32nd floor and headed down the corridor until Sylar stopped in front of one of the doors. 3212. He slid the key into the lock, the light flashed green and the lock clicked.

Claire let out a small gasp as the door swung open. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the opposite wall, being composed entirely of glass and featuring breathtaking views of the strip. The room was lavishly decorated and Claire couldn't help but think the décor alone probably cost more than most cars.

On top of the supple white carpet, was a white leather sofa flanked by two matching arm chairs, all facing a huge television that was recessed into the wall. Gorgeous artwork hung on each side of the enormous screen, abstract pieces with bright colors that Claire found pleasant to look at. Behind the sofa was a small table with two chairs and to the left of the dining set was a wet bar, fully stocked with fine stemware hanging from above.

Claire realized Sylar had wandered off and turned to the right, noticing the bedroom area for the first time. She slipped past the double sliding doors and realized the panoramic windows continued into the bedroom. The massive bed was flanked on either side by two large paned mirrors and was covered in the softest, whitest down comforter Claire had ever seen.

She wasted no time in plopping down on the comfortable bed. "This is amazing."

Sylar pulled his shirt off and climbed into the bed, covering Claire's body with his own. "You have no idea."

*

They awoke the following afternoon around noon. The journey there plus their extracurricular activities had left them exhausted and the bed was so soft and comfortable, neither could make themselves leave it.

"Hi," Claire greeted as her eyes fluttered opened to find Sylar looking at her.

"Hi."

"Can I ask you something?" Claire asked, almost shyly.

"Yeah, what?"

"Your ability is understanding things, right?" Claire asked, continuing after he nodded. "So is that why last night was so great?"

Sylar laughed. "You're asking if my ability helps in bed? Yes, it does. Having a natural understanding for how things work, well it does help one figure out the female body."

"Oh," was all Claire could think of to respond with.

"You ready to go check out the rest of this place?"

Claire nodded and minutes later they found themselves in the casino, amidst slot machines and card tables, dealers and gamblers, some of which looked as though they'd been playing all night.

"Let's try this one," Sylar said, motioning to the roulette table.

"How does it work?" Claire asked, watching the wheel spin and noticing the different numbers on the table. It stopped and the dealer called out a number which was met was either cheers or groans.

"It's simple really, the ball gets dropped into the wheel while it's spinning and eventually lands on a number. You can bet several different ways, either on the numbers individually, as a group, or on the colors," Sylar explained, before approaching the dealer. "100 thousand."

Sylar handed the man a wad of cash and received a stack of chips in return. Claire's eyes nearly jumped out of her head. "Are you crazy? That's all we've got left."

"Trust me," he told Claire before turning to the dealer. "I want it all on 21."

The dealer nodded. "All bets are in." He gave the wheel a spin and dropped the small white ball in.

Everyone looked on anxiously as it rolled around, each praying for their own miracle. Claire glanced up at Sylar and was met with a small smirk. As the wheel began to slow, the ball continued to bounce, finally coming to rest on the number 17. Only Claire noticed as Sylar casually flicked one finger. The ball bounced once more, jumping over two spots to land in front of 21.

"Red 21," the dealer called out. "Congratulations sir, you've just won 3.6 million dollars." He motioned over to a young woman dressed in a black suit and walked up with a smile.

"Yes, what can I do for you?" she asked.

"This man has just won 3.6 mil," the dealer explained.

"Of course, sir, if you'll follow me to the cages we can get that deposited in a bank account for you while you enjoy a complimentary meal in one of our fine restaurants."

"I'd rather just have my money in chips," Sylar replied. "I'd like to continue playing."

"That can be arranged also. If there is anything else you'd like during your stay here, please let us know, Mr…," she responded with the same bright smile across her face.

"Gray. Actually, there is something you can help me with."

"Of course, Mr. Gray, what can we assist you with?"

Sylar motioned for Claire to join him at his side. "I want you to give her whatever she wants." He turned to Claire and told her, "Really, whatever you want. I'm going to be here for a while so have some fun."

The pit boss turned her attention to Claire and led her away from the table. "Now what is it you would like? A spa appointment? Some shopping, perhaps?"

"Um, yeah, that'd be great," Claire answered nervously. She was a little out of her element and was surprised to find herself unsure what to do without Sylar by her side. A month ago she would have kicked her own ass for finding herself dependent on a man after just a few weeks.

"I tell you what, why don't you grab a drink or cup of coffee and I will make you a 2:00 appointment at the spa and then I'll have someone show you to any shops you'd like."

"Great, thank you," Claire answered just before making her way to the coffee shop.

She ordered a small latte and took a seat in the corner, enjoying the quietness of the small café and the warmth of her drink.


	9. Chapter 9

Sylar shook the dice in his hand, the small cubes rolling around his palm before tossing them across the green felt.

The small audience that had gathered cheered as he won big yet again. He was up ten million, some were proclaiming it the greatest lucky streak they'd ever witnessed. Sylar laughed. Who knew these abilities could be so useful?

Women were gathered around him, touching his arms, shoulders, back. Their clothing covered little, making them appear as nothing more than high-priced hookers and their behavior only furthered that notion. They moved in closer with every win and Sylar would have loved to told them all to fuck off, but he didn't need any bad press right now. So he let them linger and even managed to look as interested as he could muster.

"Why don't you ladies back off and let a real woman through?" a voice cut through the flock of females.

Sylar recognized it immediately and his blood ran hot. He turned just enough to catch a glimpse of her steel blue eyes.

Elle slid in next to him, her body pressed against his suggestively, her hand trailing down his arm. Sylar stood straight, his more primal instincts urging him to reach full height in an attempt to intimidate her. He grabbed her arm and pulled it away from himself while pulling her body closer.

"You want to take this somewhere more private?" he whispered into her ear while pulling her away from the table. "Have my chips sent to my room," he called back to the dealer as he drug her to the elevator.

As soon as the metal doors slid closed, Elle raised her hand to attack but Sylar grabbed her hand before she had a chance. "Cameras."

Elle glanced up at the security camera in the corner. She pulled her arm back, deciding she could wait just a few more minutes to cook him.

After what seemed like an eternity, they stepped into Sylar and Claire's suite. Sylar wasted no time and with a flick of two fingers, Elle was sailing across the room and found herself pinned to the expanse of windows.

Before Sylar could finish her off, a knock sounded from the door. Without breaking concentration on Elle, he stepped backwards until he reached the door. He pulled it open, taking care to keep Elle out of sight to the visitor.

"You. I'll kill you," Sylar threatened as his eyes fell onto his guest.

Trevor smiled. "Sylar, you won't kill me. And you won't kill Elle."

"Really? And why is that?" Sylar asked, amused at the stupid man's bravado.

"Because you want her so much you can't do anything else. You're going to have sex with her." With that, Trevor departed, not needing a visual of what would happen next.

Sylar turned and looked at Elle, suddenly finding himself ridiculously attracted to her. Desire was burning inside him, consuming him. He used his telekinesis to pull her toward him and wrapped her in a passionate embrace. "What are you doing to me?"

"Trevor has a special power. He can influence people's actions with words. All he needs is a name. So right now, you're finding me completely irresistible, aren't you?"

"Sylar isn't my name."

"I know, Gabriel."

"Don't ever call me that."

Sylar crushed his lips to her, fingers wrapped in her blonde strands as he yanked her head back, exposing her neck to him. "I hate you," he growled.

"Prove it," Elle dared as Sylar's mouth descended to the sensitive flesh of her neck, nipping as he worked his way down.

His hands were all over her, exploring every part of her body, squeezing and caressing as they went. He hated himself for this, but he couldn't stop. It was like being in a nightmare where he had no control of his body. His brain wanted to kill her, but his body wouldn't stop kissing her. "How long does this last?"

"Long enough for Claire to find us in bed together." Elle's laughter was like shattering ice, harsh and cold and the gleam in her eyes matched perfectly.

"You're even crazier than I am," Sylar accused as he threw her across the bed. The very same bed he and Claire had made love in the previous night.

He climbed on top of her, spreading her legs with his knee as he tugged at her pants, removing them and throwing them to the floor.

In seconds she was completely naked beneath him and even though he couldn't deny she was attractive, he was disgusted. He suddenly wondered if this was how a rape victim felt and it dawned on him that this could probably count as rape.

Elle ripped his shirt off of him, her hands exploring his chest, dragging scratches across his skin with her nails.

It was worse than anything he could have imagined. Anything he could have ever done to anyone. He cursed himself, hated himself, screamed at himself to stop and he couldn't. He was a prisoner in his own body and this was a punishment worse than death or torture. He'd take any form of pain over this any day.

He kicked off his remaining clothing without realizing it. Suddenly he found himself lying naked with Elle. And then she was touching him, stroking him. He nearly choked when a gasp escaped his lips.

Sylar desperately tried to think of anything other than what he was doing as he drove inside her. He realized that he was only prolonging his own torture as he did and instead decided to picture Claire. But this was all wrong. Claire was softer, she smelled different, her skin felt different. Her voice was sweeter, like an angel whispering his name over and over. Elle sounded like nails over a chalkboard. He had to choke back a wave of nausea for fear he might actually vomit on her.

A thought even more disgusting than his current actions occurred to him. "You had better not get fucking pregnant from this."

"Big bad killer not ready to be a daddy?" Elle mocked as she writhed beneath him, her nails clawing into the skin of his shoulders, his scratches healing as fast as she made them.

Something wasn't right with this. Her tone, her response. It didn't fit. Her voice was off, the look in her eyes different.

"That's what you're trying to do isn't it? You sick bitch, you're trying to get pregnant with my child. Why?" He wished he could strangle her. Watch as she gasped for breath, eyes bulging out her head, pleading with him as her life was extinguished.

"Damn. You figured it out. Aren't you the smart little killer?" she admitted. "Well, not that little," she added suggestively as she swiveled her hips for emphasis.

"Why?!" Sylar bit off, jerking her hair as he plunged inside her again, this time harder and more ferocious, trying to cause her pain in any way he could.

Elle groaned and her back arched into him as she breathed out, "Angela had a vision. Your son. The strongest. Need him on our side."

Sylar processed what she said. "You're lying. Angela wouldn't want you to be the mother of my son. She'd want it to be Claire, her granddaughter. She'd want the baby to be a part of her twisted family."

"That's why…Company sent me instead. They don't want Angela…to ever have control. They can't let the baby be…Claire's," Elle's speech was broken, her breaths coming out in pants as she approached her climax.

Sylar could feel her getting close and couldn't let her have the satisfaction. He could also feel Trevor's little spell slowly start to wear off. He grabbed Elle by the hair and slammed her head into the mahogany headboard. He was rewarded with a large crack and the sight of blood.

Before he could repeat his previous action, he heard the door to the suite click. Panic suddenly flooded his mind and he scrambled to grab his pants, leaving Elle bloody and naked.

It was too late. Claire was already standing in the doorway.

"Claire, please, it's not what you think," Sylar started to explain, rushing to her side. He reached for her arm but she pulled away and raced for the door.

Sylar glanced at Elle, then at the door Claire just ran through. Damnit. He could either kill Elle or run after Claire. Elle was the cause of his problem with Claire. Elle had made him endure the worst experience of his life. Elle was trying to have to his child.

Elle had to die.

If he killed her, maybe that would show Claire that he cared about her, not Elle. He stalked towards the bed, his intentions written clearly on his face, swirling in his dark eyes.

Elle froze, her mind went blank. It was an odd thing to see your death walking towards you. Why weren't her instincts kicking in? As Sylar raised his hand, Elle snapped out of it and fired a quick bolt of lightning at him. It tore through his side, brining him to his knees as the currents made his body seize up.

Elle scrambled from the bed, the sheet wrapped around her naked form. She raced for the door, but fell face first as Sylar grabbed her leg with an invisible reach. She clawed across the floor, edging closer and closer to the door while Sylar still held his side.

He climbed to his feet, stumbling as he headed towards her. He reached out once again with his telekinetic grip and her back was thrown against the floor. She was helpless.

Sylar smiled. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

He raised his hand, a single finger extended. Elle's screams cut through the room as a bloody line crossed her forehead. Sylar's eyes clouded with bloodlust.

"Sylar, stop," a voice called from the doorway and Sylar found himself frozen. He couldn't even turn his head to see who was speaking, but he didn't need to see him to know it was Elle's partner.

Trevor came into Sylar's field of vision and bent down over Elle's still form. He checked for a pulse and apparently found one because he was murmuring something to her. He picked up her small body and spared one last glance back at Sylar before carrying Elle out of the room.

Sylar finally regained movement after a few minutes, but he knew it was enough time for Elle and Trevor to be long gone. And Claire.

Shit. He had to find her. Explain things. Pray that she would believe him. He turned back to the bedroom to grab his shirt and heard someone breathing behind him.

"Claire."

"I only came back to make sure you weren't dead and get my stuff," Claire explained hastily, her eyes focused on the floor by her feet.

"Give me a chance to explain." Sylar took a step forward, Claire took a step back.

She finally raised her head and met his eyes with her own. "Explain? How are you going to do that? Tell me you accidentally ended up naked in bed with Elle?" she screamed, moving in closer instead of backing down. "Did you tell her she was beautiful? Did she scream out your name? She tell you she loved you?"

They were standing toe to toe now and Claire was staring up at him, fire in her eyes and defiance on her face. He had never, in everything he had done to her, seen her so utterly furious. He silently praised the fact that she hadn't inherited her mother's pyrokinesis.

"Claire, you don't understand."

"No, I do understand. I finally understand everything. You are the same asshole you always were. You used me, fucked me, and then when you had enough, you found another easy blonde." Tears streamed down her face as she screamed at him accusingly. Because with every word she uttered, her heart broke even more. "You might call yourself Sylar now, but Gabriel, you are still the same pathetic nobody you always were."

Anger flashed in Sylar's eyes. "Don't say things like that, Claire. You have no idea what you're talking about. But how could you? You're still the same naïve little girl you always were."

Claire looked shocked for just a moment. "Well, I'm glad the big bad Sylar let the innocent little cheerleader climb into his bed. You're disgusting."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Claire."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"Go fuck your new girlfriend."

"I can't. I almost killed her and your boyfriend left with her."

Surprised covered Claire's features. "Trevor was here?"

"You're admitting he's your boyfriend. So there was more to the story than what I caught, huh? You're a hypocrite. At least mine wasn't consensual," Sylar accused, finding himself filling with anger once again. He took a step closer and Claire visibly flinched in fear.

"What are you afraid of, Claire? I thought I was pathetic," Sylar chided as he stepped closer, forcing her against the wall before he grabbed her throat. "Now that I have your attention, let me explain something to you. That little boyfriend of yours, he has a special ability. He can control a person actions, he just has to tell them what to do or feel."

Realization dawned on Claire as she took in the implications.

Sylar read her expression. "That's right, Claire. I had to fuck Elle, even though my mind was fighting it, my body was following Trevor's orders. Do you have any idea what that's like? Of course, you don't because the only person you've ever screwed is me and I'd never put you through that. But then again, maybe I'm wrong. I don't know what might have happened between you and Trevor before I got there."

"Nothing," Claire rasped, her throat sore from the pressure Sylar was applying.

"You're lying," Sylar accused, raising his voice for the first time since his explanation. He squeezed her throat tighter and raised his other hand. When he extended his index finger, Claire couldn't stop the memories of the last time she was in a similar position.

Tears filled her eyes as she fully realized she'd never be able to truly forget who he was. "Just do it. I can't do this anymore."

Sylar blinked rapidly as though just awaking. "You want me to kill you?"

"Isn't that what you were going to do anyway?" Claire asked, accusation in her tone.

Sylar seemed to realize where he was for the first time and released his grip, causing her to collapse to the floor. "No, I wouldn't…I mean…Claire, I-"

"Don't bother. I'm sorry for everything, but I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend you're something you're not. You're a killer and I can't stay with you anymore. Either kill me or let me go."

Sylar went quiet for a moment, absorbing what she said. He stood straight, pulling his shoulders back and rising to his full height as he stared down at her, a sinister look in his eyes Claire hadn't seen since he took her ability.

"You're right, Claire. People don't change."

Claire closed her eyes and prepared for the inevitable as Sylar raised his hand one last time. "I really did love you," she whispered as she waited for the invisible blade to slice through her skin.

"And you were everything to me."


	10. Chapter 10

A gunshot rang out through the hotel room. Hearing a gunshot at any time is a surprising event, but when you are expecting your death, unaware of the presence of a gun, and not feeling the pain of the bullet tearing through your skin, it's absolutely shocking.

Claire's eyes shot open and she immediately looked over her body, finding no blood or bullet holes, she looked for Sylar.

He wasn't hard to find, lying just a few feet from her in a pool of his own blood. There was a pistol in his hand, one that she recognized easily as a Company issue firearm. Elle must have left it with her clothes, but when Sylar found the time to pick it up, she had no idea.

Her mind was a mess. So many different feelings at once. Joy at still being alive. Despair at Sylar apparently being dead. Confusion as to why he used a firearm on himself, instead of dealing her the death blow she had been preparing for.

Amidst her mental turmoil, she realized something was horribly wrong. At least a minute had passed since the gunshot and yet the hole in Sylar's head was showing no signs of healing. Her heart raced as she considered the possibility that he wasn't coming back.

Oh god, what had she done? Was this her fault? Why in the hell would he do something so stupid?

So many possibilities and absolutely no way of knowing which was the right one. She didn't have time right now to dwell on it. She had to figure out why he wasn't healing.

Claire thought back to her hundreds of injuries and came up with nothing. Wait, there was one. When Brody tried to rape her so many years ago, she had ended up with a branch lodged in her head and didn't heal until it was removed. She had actually been dead for a while.

The bullet. That had to be why Sylar wasn't healing. It must have been preventing his body from regenerating.

Claire raced to the bedroom and grabbed her bag. She dumped the contents on the bed and rummaged through them until she found her makeup bag. She removed a pair of tweezers from the bag and threw it on the bed among the pile of clothes.

She ran back to Sylar and dropped to her knees at his side. She cradled his head in her lap, turning its lifeless form to its side so she could see the wound. It was deep. Too deep for her to reach the bullet.

The thought of what she had to do was truly repulsive, but the alternative was even worse so she went to the bar and fished an icepick out of the drawer.

Claire took a deep breath as she knelt next to his lifeless body one more time. His eyes were closed, his skin was still warm though a bit pale. He looked almost as though he were sleeping. Until she turned his head and saw the hole and blood trail running down his head and neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she mumbled over and over as tears slid down her cheeks, dripping from her chin and landing on his face with a silent splash.

After taking a deep breath and with her nose scrunched in an expression of disgust, she stuck the icepick into her former lover's head until she hit something solid. Unsure whether it was a piece of skull or the bullet, she tried to feel out the shape with the pick.

Deciding it was the bullet, she maneuvered the icepick trying to slide the bullet higher. She held the tweezers with her other hand and pushed them into the hole, trying to see if they could reach the bullet yet.

After a few more minutes of maneuvering and nearly giving up, she grasped the bullet with the tweezers and pulled. The small object was removed from Sylar's body and Claire tossed it to the side.

"Please work," Claire breathed as she cradled Sylar's head, praying silently for any sign of life.

She was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as Sylar's body mended itself. Claire held him close to her while he regained consciousness.

"Claire?" Sylar finally uttered as he came to.

"Yeah," she answered, still holding his head against her chest, her fingers running through his short dark hair.

"I thought you hated me," he replied, pulling away from her and sitting up on the floor.

"I don't hate you. Why did you do it? Why would you try to kill yourself? I mean, you of all people, someone who has fought so hard to survive. How could you do that?"

Sylar raised his eyes to meet hers, he saw the glassiness that told him she'd been crying. He wondered how many tears she'd cried because of him now. He decided the number was incalculable, but more than she deserved.

"Claire, I've found the smallest reasons to kill for. Searched for things to live for. And finally found one thing I was willing to die for," Sylar told her. His voice was soft, but not without conviction. "I'd die before I'd hurt you and yet, I've already caused you so much pain. You don't deserve this. And even though I want you, I know you're right. I'm never going to change. I will always be a killer who breaks everything he touches."

"You know, when I first started falling for you, I resisted it because of who you were. After I got to know you, I realized it didn't matter to me anymore. I loved you for you, not for your actions. And though I knew it would be hard, I thought we could be okay. I was naïve and thought we'd be fine because we were in love. But you're right. This isn't going to work. We are two different people from two different worlds and we will always have the Company at our back. We just can't do it."

Sylar let out a long sigh. He knew she was right, had even started the conversation, yet it still pained him to hear speak the words. "And you deserve a real life. A family and I can't give that to you." He didn't intend to tell her about the Company's newest plan. He just knew he couldn't risk getting her pregnant with his child. If that were to happen, the Company would stop at nothing to steal their baby and that was something he couldn't put Claire through. "And I won't risk hurting you again."

Claire rubbed her throat, though it no longer hurt, the memory of his hand squeezing it was still there. "I still love you."

"I know."

Sylar softly put his palm against her cheek, savoring the last time he'd feel her skin against his hand. She leaned into him, so slowly he wasn't sure if she'd ever make it to his lips. But she did and her lips just barely touched his in a whisper of a kiss. He used his hand to pull her closer, deepening the kiss as he did but taking care to be as gentle and slow as possible.

"You have to go. Somebody would've heard the gunshot and the police are probably already on their way," Sylar told her when they parted. He stood and walked into the bedroom, fishing a small bag from his bag and tossing it to Claire.

She caught it with ease and pulled it open, revealing a mass of chips. Claire tossed the bag back to him. "I don't need this. You keep it. I'm going home to my parents."

Claire lifted herself from the floor and met Sylar in the middle. He enveloped her in his arms, relishing the feel of her head against his chest as long as he could. The smell of her hair, the feel of her skin, the sound of her laugh, he knew he'd never be able to forget any of it.

*

Sunlight steamed through the window, awaking Claire from a peaceful sleep. She stretched and let out a long yawn as she tossed the blankets aside. She had been surprised at how hard it had been to adjust at life at home again and found she missed the excitement she had felt before.

And more than that, she missed him.

But it had been two weeks since they parted ways and she didn't even know where he was. Her parents had welcomed her with open arms as parents always did and her father was overjoyed to hear about her recent breakup. Her mother had at least pretended to be sympathetic.

Claire climbed out of bed and padded into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She glanced at herself in the mirror, it still surprised her sometimes that she never changed. Never aged. One day she'd be fifty and still look fifteen. A blessing and a curse.

She let such thoughts tumble around her head as she moved the pink brush over her teeth. But suddenly, something just felt wrong. She couldn't explain it, but her stomach felt like it doing flips inside her.

Instinctively, she turned to the toilet just as she began to vomit. "Mom!" she screamed after she was done, collapsed in a pile on the floor.

Sandra raced in, clearly in a panic and found her daughter in the bathroom. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I threw up."

To any other mother, that statement would have caused the typical "oh you poor thing" reaction and a trip to the medicine cabinet. For this mother, however, it caused a panic. Claire had never thrown up in her entire life. At least, not since Noah brought her home.

"Is your ability not working?" Sandra asked.

Claire didn't respond, she simply reached up and pulled open a cabinet, feeling around until she produced a pair of scissors. She raked the blade across her arm and watched as a thin line of blood appeared. The small scratch disappeared as quickly as Claire had made it.

"Yeah, it's working so why am I sick?" Claire asked, worry in her tone and confusion on her face.

"Noah!" Sandra called out, hoping her husband might have some answers.

Noah was there in moments, gun in hand. "What's wrong?"

"Claire's sick."

Noah's brow creased in confusion. "What do you mean she's sick?"

"I threw up," Claire answered from the bathroom floor. "But I am still healing like normal."

"And we all know that Claire's ability prevents her from getting sick," Sandra added.

"Which means Claire's vomiting is being caused by something other than illness," Noah thought aloud.

Noah and Sandra turned to each other at the same moment, both having arrived at the same conclusion. Noah's eyes darted from Claire to the door and he decided on the latter as he exited the room. This was a conversation he could not be apart of.

"Claire, honey," Sandra began, wondering how she could ask this of her baby girl. "When you and Sylar…um...how should i put this...did you use protection?"

"What?" Claire asked quickly in disbelief. Her eyes widened as she realized where her mother was headed. "You mean…I'm….I'm…"

"I don't know, honey. Maybe."

"Oh god, Mom, I can't be…this can't be happening. I don't even know where he is," Claire's panicked voice turned into sobs as the weight of the situation hit her.

"Well, have you had your 'time' this month?"

Claire looked at her mother as though she from another planet. "You mean my period? No, but I don't really keep track of it. Never had the need before. Ugh."

Sandra knelt down next to her daughter and wrapped her baby in her arms. "I know, sweetie. Before we start panicking, let's head down to the store and pick up a test."

Claire choked back another sob and nodded. "Yeah, okay. Just let me dressed."

Sandra nodded and left her daughter to dress. Claire stood up and looked in the mirror once more. How could she ever be a mother? There were so many questions racing through her mind. Could she even have a child? How would her body respond? How would she explain to her child that her father was a murderer? How could she explain to teachers why she appeared the same age as her kid?

She took a deep breath as she pushed those questions to the back of her mind. Her mother was right, she needed to know that she truly was pregnant before she thought of anything else. So, she pulled clothes from her dresser and slipped them on quickly, not even bothering with makeup as she raced out the door.

Her parents were waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Sandra trying her best not to look terrified and Noah trying to hide his rage. Both were failing miserably.

Wordlessly, Claire and Sandra left their home and climbed into the car. The tenseness was almost palpable and the drive to the drug store was silent, both women wrapped up in their own thoughts.

Claire's heart raced as they pulled into the parking lot. She knew then that every moment until she saw those test results would be pure hell.

They found the aisle with the pregnancy tests and were overwhelmed by the choices. They finally decided on a digital one that displayed words instead of confusing lines and headed for the checkout.

The drive home was even more tense than the drive there, if that was possible, and Claire's stomach was in knots. So many questions and no answers. She thought sure it'd drive her insane, if it was impossible to completely lose your sanity in five minutes.

When they finally pulled up to the house, Claire turned to her mother. "What if I am? What am I going to do?"

Sandra grabbed her daughters hand and squeezed. "We will figure all of that out, honey. And you know your father and I will be there for you no matter what."

"I don't know, Mom. How is Dad going to treat the child of his worst enemy? What if he hates it just because it's Sylar's?"

"Claire, you know your father better than that. Even if it is Sylar's, it's yours too and your father will adore that child."

"What about Nathan and Peter? What will they think?" Claire knew she was near babbling now and wondered if it was possible for her to have a panic attack.

"Honey, they love you and they will love your baby, too. Do you really think Peter wouldn't forgive you? I'd bet him and Nathan will spoil the baby to death," Sandra assured her daughter. When Claire had visibly calmed down, Sandra squeezed her hand again. "Now let's go take that test before we get ahead of ourselves."

Claire nodded and they both stepped out of the car and headed straight for the bathroom. Sandra waited impatiently on Claire's bed while Claire paced nervously across her small bathroom floor.

She glanced at her watch. It was time. She grabbed the small white test from the counter and lifted it up, her heart feeling as though it would burst through her chest any second. She finally read the words in the small gray square.

Pregnant.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: We're getting closer to the end and really, I've already finished this. Now its just a matter of editing and posting. Also, how awesome was tonight's episode? A big HA! to everyone who said Sylar/Claire was incest. And without further ado, Chapter 11...

* * *

Claire never imagined one word could be so life-altering. But there it was, still staring up at her. Pregnant. She was sure she'd be screaming or crying or doing anything at all if she wasn't in complete shock. But as it was, she only sit there numbly, staring at the instrument in her hand as though it would change if she stared hard enough.

Seeing no reason to delay the inevitable, she finally emerged from the bathroom and handed her mother the test. Sandra's face blanched as she read the results, but she did her best to remain calm for her daughter's sake.

Noah, who had previously been lurking in the hallway, entered the room at the moment and from the expressions on the faces of his wife and daughter, he knew. He let out a deep sigh and absently rubbed his forehead.

"What am I going to do?" Claire asked meekly, collapsing on her bed next to her mother. "Should I tell him? I mean, I have to tell him, right? But I don't know how to do that."

Sandra wrapped her daughter in a loving embrace and gave her husband a sharp look.

Noah took the hint and took a seat next to his family. He placed a hand on Claire's shoulder and told her, "I'll find him."

That seemed to comfort her for no one else on earth had more experience hunting for Sylar than her father. Noah gave her a reassuring smile and left the room, leaving the women to their mother-daughter time.

"How could I have been so careless?" Claire asked, more to herself than her mother.

"Oh honey, your brain tends to stop working when you're in love. It's so easy to get caught up in," Sandra told her as she rubbed Claire's back.

"But what about him? What if he doesn't want anything to do with us? Or what if he does?" Tears were filling her eyes once again as she tried to imagine which would be the worst scenario.

Sandra put her hand under Claire's chin and turned her face towards her. "Do you still love him, Claire?"

Claire thought just a moment before answering honestly, "Yes."

"And do you believe he loves you?" Sandra asked.

"Yes."

Sandra smiled, despite how much it pained her to do so. The thought of losing her child to that man was horrid, but seeing Claire so miserable was worse. "Then everything will be fine."

The problem was, Claire had never told her parents the conditions of their separation. She had only said that they realized it wouldn't work and that was it. But there was so much more to it than that. The reasons they decided they couldn't be together were still there and a baby only made the situation worse.

*

Noah paced the floor of his office as he held the phone up to his ear. It rang once. Twice. He cursed on the third time and on the fourth someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Parkman. It's Bennet. I need your help," Noah greeted, seeing no reason to waste time with pleasantries. It wasn't his style anyway.

"What is it?" Matt asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. It had been over a year since he'd heard from Bennet and then it was simply to congratulate him on the birth of his daughter.

"I need Molly to locate someone for me."

"Who?"

"Sylar."

"We've been down this road before and you know how I feel about it," Matt responded, all traces of curiosity now replaced with agitation. He was about to end the call when Noah spoke again.

"Wait, it's not what you think. It's for Claire." Noah hated divulging that bit of information. Unfortunately, even though they were spread across the country, news between the gifted seemed to travel fast. And he already knew that one of the prisoners that had escaped Level 5 during Claire and Sylar's little escapade had sought out Mohinder for help and told him what happened. Mohinder, of course, had then called Matt who told Daphne who called Hiro and so on and so forth. He believed the only people who didn't know Claire had been sleeping with a serial killer were the Petrellis, solely because nobody wanted to be the bearer of that news to that family.

Matt was silent for a few moments before finally responding. "Alright, but you know it's up to her."

The other end of the line was silent for several minutes, presumably while Matt talked to Molly.

"Bennet."

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to believe this."

Noah actually dropped the phone from his ear as there was a knock on the door. The phone clattered to the floor, but Noah was too awestruck to notice. He could only hear Matt's words as another knock sounded.

"_He's at your front door."_

Noah regained his senses and headed for the door. He pulled it open quickly to find exactly who he'd expected.

"What are you doing here?" Noah asked.

Sylar didn't say a word, he simply pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Noah.

He took it with a glance up at Sylar as he began unfolding it. It was worn, the creases of the folds so thin it almost tore as he pulled it open.

Sylar, not getting the reaction he expected, quickly put two and two together. "You already knew?"

Noah nodded and stepped aside, allowing room for Sylar to enter. He glanced down at the image on the paper once more. It was a simple drawing, more of a sketch really, with a single figure. It was Claire and she was clearly pregnant.

"We just found out," Noah finally told him after closing the door.

"There's something you need to know, Bennet," Sylar started. "The reason Elle has been after us, well me, is because Angela Petrelli had a vision. Apparently, in this vision, I had a son and he was powerful. Powerful enough for the Company to try and choose the mother of this child."

"Elle?" Noah questioned, disgust clear in his tone. Sylar nodded and Noah continued, "So what you're telling me is now that Claire is pregnant, they're going to do whatever it takes to get control of this baby?"

"Yes."

"And I'm assuming you never mentioned this to my daughter?"

"No. I didn't see any reason to at the time," Sylar admitted.

"Are you worried they may succeed?" Noah asked, curious if the infamous Sylar could be afraid of anything. If he cared enough to be afraid.

Sylar chose to ignore the question and instead asked a question of his own. "Where is Claire?"

"Upstairs. She's pretty upset."

"About being pregnant or about being pregnant with my child?" Sylar asked. Noah thought he detected a hint of uncertainty in the younger man's tone but couldn't be sure.

"A little of both, I think," Noah answered honestly.

Sylar turned towards the stairs but was stopped by Noah's hand wrapped around his wrist. "Just to be clear, I am still not happy about this, but right now, I'll go along with it for Claire's sake."

"Got it."

They then turned and headed up the stairs together, each one with their own set of concerns.

When they approached the door to Claire's bedroom, Noah motioned for Sylar to wait outside and he did.

"Claire," Noah said as he opened the door. "There's someone here to see you."

Before Claire could ask who, Sylar stepped into the doorway. Shock clearly registered on the young blonde's face as she struggled for words.

Sandra quietly exited the room with her husband, knowing the two would definitely need a chance to talk alone.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Claire rushed to him and threw her arms around him. Sylar was taken aback, but recovered quickly and returned her embrace.

"Is this the hormones or are you really happy to see me?" Sylar asked, half jokingly.

Claire let out a slight chuckle. "Both, I guess. Wait, did my dad tell you?"

"No, I found out about that little surprise all on my own," he answered, removing one arm from her and pulling the drawing from his pocket.

Claire quickly unfolded it and scoffed. "Great, I look like a whale."

Sylar couldn't help but laugh. With everything else they'd have to face, she found the time to be worried about gaining some weight. "I think you have more important things to be worried about."

Claire bit her lip in nervousness. "Does this mean you want the baby?"

Sylar couldn't help but a little shocked by her question, but after some though, he could see why she found it necessary. "Claire, why wouldn't I want our child? I'm only worried about keeping you and our baby safe."

Claire tensed as one worry was vanquished and another sprung to life. "Oh god, the Company is going to come after our baby, aren't they?"

"How do you know that?" Sylar asked quickly, wondering Claire somehow knew what Elle had told him.

"Why wouldn't they? They've hunted the rest of us down like animals and there is a very strong chance our baby will have an ability."

"I'll protect you both. And so will your father. You don't need to worry about that." He pulled her over to the bed and they both sat down. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder and his arm across hers. "More importantly, how do you feel about this?"

"I don't know. I'm scared. There's so much that could go wrong with this. I don't know if I'm ready to be a mother. And then there's us. We were such a mess before and this only complicates things." Feeling he was about to object, Claire lifted her head and faced him. "We went our separate ways for a reason. Several, in fact. None of that has changed, and this only makes it worse. We can't just suddenly be the perfect couple because we're having a child together."

"But we have to try."

"Why aren't you freaking out? Is this really what you want?"

Sylar gave her just the slightest smile. "I was freaking out at first. It took a little while for me to get it together and realize that this is exactly what I want."

Claire shook her head. "How is this going to work? Are we just going to pretend to be normal? Go to PTA meetings? How do we explain to our baby why daddy killed the bad man who was trying to steal him?"

Sylar sighed. "I don't know. We'll just have to take it one day at a time."

*

The rest of the day had been spent talking about their future and all the different obstacles that lay in their path. They talked about how Sylar would change as a father and how Claire would adjust to being a mother.

It would be difficult for both of them. Claire had already exhausted so much energy in her life keeping herself safe, the thought of having something more precious to protect was almost suffocating. Especially when there was so much still unknown, like what kind of ability her child might have. What if he was like Ted? How does someone raise a nuclear child? She wondered when her baby's powers would become active. Molly's had come about when she was a child while Nathan was in forties. That was a wide range to be waiting for your child to show signs of abnormality.

Sylar's life wouldn't be any easier. For as long as he could remember, he had been alone. Even as a child, his parents had barely registered his existence. Everything he had ever done was for himself and now he'd have to learn how to put someone's life ahead of his own. He'd have to become selfless, quite a feat for any villain. And more than that, his primary goal could no longer be to collect abilities. He'd have to devote all of his time to keeping Claire and the baby safe. He'd have to change who he was.

After spending several hours talking of such things lying together on Claire's bed, they had joined her parents for dinner. The meal was tense and spent almost completely silence, which was welcome for Claire. It gave her a chance to reflect on everything that happened.

While Claire and her mother cleared the dishes, Noah retired to his office and Sylar sat awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He'd never found himself in such a domestic setting, especially one he wasn't entirely welcome in.

A knock at the door jolted everyone from their thoughts. Both men immediately sprang to action.

"Sandra, take Claire upstairs," Noah barked from the doorway of his office. His wife nodded and the women headed upstairs.

Sylar took a battle-ready stance as Noah approached the door. He nodded at Sylar who returned the small gesture. In one fluid movement, Noah swung the door open and stepped to the side, giving Sylar a clear shot at whomever was standing on the other side.

Just as he was about to fire a ball of sizzling energy, he recognized the two faces and the ball dissipated in his hand.

Matt and Mohinder stepped inside, not waiting for an invitation, and greeted Noah.

"What are you doing here?" Noah asked, knowing Matt hadn't mentioned any travel plans to him on the phone earlier.

"Don't be mad, but after I talked to you, I called Mohinder and told him what was going on," Matt explained, hands raised in front of his chest defensively.

Mohinder took his cue and stepped forward. "Is it what we believe, Noah?"

"That depends on what you believe," Noah answered easily, not giving away anything.

Sylar watched the exchange with interest. He had never found himself on this side of things and was curious about their relationship. The men all seemed comfortable enough around each other, but not exactly friendly. He knew that Matt and Mohinder had spent a lot of time together while caring for Molly and he vaguely remembered Bennet and Parkman running around together during the whole Kirby Plaza incident.

"Come on, Bennet, are you forgetting who I am? My powers do extend to telephone calls," Matt told him, but seeing Noah's reaction, he added, "Mohinder helped me and Daphne. He can help Claire, too."

Noah sighed and adjusted his glasses. He finally nodded and called for Claire to come downstairs.

While they waited, Sylar noticed how the two newcomers refused to look at him, instead pretending he wasn't even in the room. He decided to let them continue their little charade and remained silent.

Claire came down the stairs and smiled when she saw Matt. She rushed to him and he met her with a hug. Over the years, she had come to adore the loveable former cop. He had spent more time with her family than any other person outside the family and though Noah wouldn't admit it, Claire knew he considered Matt a friend.

"Hey, how's Molly and Daniella?" Claire asked him, momentarily forgetting to be surprised that he was there in the first place.

"Daniella is fine. She's been talking more and more and took her first steps the other day," Matt told her, beaming with fatherly pride. "Molly, on the other hand, well teenagers are tough, what can I say?"

Claire smiled at him knowingly. It hadn't been long since she was a teenager herself and she knew from experience, teenage girls and adoptive fathers didn't always see eye-to-eye.

She seemed to notice Mohinder for the first time and glanced around the room, her expression changing from happiness to confusion as she took in the faces of the four men. She didn't know Mohinder as well, having only been around him a handful of times, but she didn't need to be his best friend to read the concern on his face.

"What's going on?" Claire asked nervously.

Noah approached his daughter and put a hand on her shoulder. "Before Sylar showed up, I called Matt to see if Molly could find him. He apparently read my mind and then called Mohinder. They want to help you."

Claire was surprised, but relieved. She had so many questions a normal doctor would never be able to answer. The biggest of which being, how would her body react to a baby?

"And how exactly do you intend to help?" Sylar's voice cut through the room. Everyone instinctively turned in his direction, most forgetting he had even been there. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're not a gynecologist."

Mohinder remained silent, but his face spoke volumes.

"Do you think a gynecologist could handle delivering a baby from a woman who's body heals instantaneously?" Noah spoke in an attempt to alleviate some of the newfound tension. He gave Sylar a sharp glance, its intentions clear and Sylar remained silent.

"If this wasn't for Claire, I wouldn't be here," Mohinder stated, making it clear he had no intentions of ever helping Sylar.

Matt put a hand to his hand, his expression was strained and a thin line of sweat had formed on his brown. Claire, still standing next to him, noticed his apparent discomfort.

"Matt, are you okay? What's wrong?" she asked him, placing a hand on his arm as she studied his face.

"I don't know. I don't think I've been in a room with so many loud, angry thoughts. It's overwhelming," he answered. He put both hands to his temples now and leaned forward. "Something about the Company…Elle…Sylar's son…a deal." At that last piece of information, the room went silent.

Each person glancing questioningly at the next.

This behavior continued for a full minute before Noah broke the silence. "Matt, I don't think anyone wants you prying into their minds."

Sylar was perhaps the only person in the room who saw the answer. "You. You made a deal. With who?"

Noah turned to Sylar while everyone else turned to him. "Don't be stupid. I didn't make a deal with anyone."

"You're lying," Sylar accused as he stepped towards him, body language clearly conveying the unspoken threat.

"He's right. Noah is lying," Matt said, turning everyone's attention to himself once again. He turned to Claire and added, "He sent Elle after you. He knew she was going to try and come between you."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Okay, one more for tonight. Also, I've been looking for a good beta, so if anyone's interested, let me know. Thanks.

* * *

"Ouch, man, that's harsh," Matt added to Sylar as his mind was filled with visions of Sylar and Elle's last encounter.

Sylar didn't even register Matt's words because he was too busy closing in on Noah. Before Noah could even touch his gun, Sylar had him by throat.

The group all stepped in closer, but with a glare from Sylar, they all stopped dead. Claire could only look on, frozen with Matt's revelation. She couldn't say it surprised her, and she couldn't say she didn't understand why, but it still hurt.

"Thanks, Matt," Noah said sarcastically as Sylar squeezed his throat. Seeing that nobody there was going to be of any use, he did what he did best. "That's it, Sylar. Kill me. How do you think Claire will look at you if you kill her father? How will you tell your son that you killed his grandfather?"

Sylar tightened his grip just before letting go. "It's nice to know you're as morally gray as you always were. At least now I know where I stand."

"Did you expect the rules to change because you were sleeping with daughter?" Noah asked sardonically. "It only makes me want to kill you more."

"Dad, how do you think I would look at you if you killed the man I loved? How would you explain to your grandson that you killed his father?" Claire finally asked from her position at Matt's side, proving once again that she was her father's daughter. "The rules haven't changed, but the game has. Whose side are you on?"

"Yours. Everything I have done has always been for you," Noah told her as he stepped closer. "Why can't you see that?"

"Then, for once, do something to prove it. Let it go. I've forgiven him, why can't you?" Claire demanded.

"When your child is born and you look at his face for the first time, you'll understand why."

Matt took this opportunity to join the conversation. He placed a hand on Claire's shoulder and turned her to face him. "Claire, he's not wrong. His actions may have been wrong, but I know where he's coming from. I'd do anything to protect my daughters and if someone ever hurt them, I don't think I could stop until that person was dead."

Mohinder nodded and added his two cents. "I'm not a father, but I know that someone will do whatever it takes to protect their family. We're biologically programmed to protect those we care about. To do anything and everything in our power to keep them safe. And when we feel threatened, we act irrationally, sometimes hurting the very ones we are trying to protect."

Claire took in everything the two men were telling her. Coming from anyone else, she might have disregarded it, but during their many adventures, she had come to have a great deal of respect for both and valued their advice.

"Dad, Sylar, I love you both, and if you care about me at all, you'll try to make this work. For my sake and my baby's."

Both men let out simultaneous sighs and looked at each. "Fine," they said in unison.

"Good. Now Matt, back up a second, before you said something about Sylar's son?" Claire turned her attention to Matt once again.

"Oh, right. I heard something about Sylar's son, let me find it," he told her. He turned his head to the side and focused on everyone in the room individually.

When he turned to Sylar, he found himself having a hard time breaking through. Sylar was resisting. _"What are you hiding?"_

"_Leave it alone,"_ Sylar warned in his mind.

But Matt persisted, trying to force himself into Sylar's mind.

"_Leave it alone, Parkman. Claire doesn't need to know this."_

"_Know what?"_

Sylar relented and showed Matt his memory of his conversation with Elle. It was slightly embarrassing, given the circumstances of that encounter, but Matt had already seen it anyway.

"_Don't tell Claire."_

Matt nodded as he broke away from Sylar's mind. Knowing Claire would need an explanation, he turned to her and said, "I don't know. I lost it."

*

After Claire had gone to bed, the four men huddled together in Noah's office.

"I take it Parkman filled you in?" Noah asked, his attention on Mohinder.

The darker man nodded and Noah turned to Sylar. "Was there anything else Elle said? Anything?"

"No, I was too busy trying not to puke to grill her properly. Maybe you'd have better luck," Sylar snapped.

"A little touchy, are we?" Noah couldn't help but smile at the younger man's discomfort, though deep down, he felt a pang of guilt.

Matt twiddled his thumbs nervously while Mohinder stared down at what must have been the most interesting piece of carpet ever made.

"Right now we need to focus on jow we're going to help Claire. We need to know more," Noah stated with a purposeful look at Sylar.

He pulled open a desk drawer and produced a pad of paper, he handed it to Sylar and then pulled a pen from his pocket. "Do it."

While Sylar wasn't too thrilled at being ordered around, he knew it was the only way so he snatched the proffered instrument from Noah and forced himself into a trance.

His body went still as he focused in on a singular ability.

"Sylar?" Matt poked him in the arm after Sylar failed to move for several minutes.

Sylar's head jerked up, his eyes shot open revealing glowing white orbs. He raised the pad and immediately began sketching. His hand was moving furiously, as the pen scratched across the paper.

The men stood silently until Sylar was finished. When he had completed the drawing, he blinked and revealed his usual brown eyes.

The four huddled around the image as Sylar held it in front of him.

The drawing was clear, the lines were crisp and the image was unmistakable.

On it, there is a man. Sylar, but younger. In his twenties, perhaps. And there are dozens of bodies at his feet. A dark pool covering the entire bottom of the page. Everyone could assume it was blood.

On Sylar's right was a woman. Her face was hidden but her identity was clear from the electrical currents covering her hands and arms. On the left was another woman, her face clear and unmistakably the Petrelli matriarch.

The men stared in silent confusion. This was supposed to show the future. The baby's future and yet they were looking at Sylar.

"I don't understand," Mohinder finally muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"I do," Noah responded as he squinted at the picture beneath his thick frames. "It's not Sylar."

Matt and Mohinder both glanced at Noah and back at the image.

"He's right. It's not me," Sylar agreed and Matt and Mohinder were more confused than ever.

While the comic-style drawing wasn't abundant in details, the man was easily Sylar. His dark hair, thick brows, same nose, same lips.

"The eyes, their Claire's," Sylar explained and Noah nodded in agreement.

Matt and Mohinder glanced up at Sylar once and back to the picture again before they saw it.

"And the scar. Sylar can't scar, he has Claire's ability," Noah added, pointing to the man's eyebrow and the thin line that ran through it.

"So this is…" Mohinder started.

"My son," Sylar finished. His tone was smooth and soft, but everyone caught the despair that laced those two words.

"This is what we have to stop," Noah told them.

Matt gasped and coughed and the other three turned towards him. He was staring at the image again, clutching it tightly between white knuckles.

"What is it?" Mohinder questioned before following his line of sight and seeing what Matt saw. "Oh dear."

Among the bodies, two faces stared up from the blood. And though her hair wasn't platinum blonde and her eyes weren't brown, Matt knew exactly who she was.

Daphne. And lying next to her was a face that he also knew without question. Even though she was at least twenty years older, it was his baby, Daniella.

"You're right, we have to stop this."

"How?" Sylar asked the question they'd all been thinking. While he'd never admit it aloud, seeing his son covered in blood, with so much destruction at his hands, it made Sylar ill. He didn't want his son to end up like him. He wanted more for him.

"I don't know," Noah admitted grimly.

"This is unlike every other situation we've faced. With Kirby Plaza, the Shanti virus, the exposition, there was always one decisive action to save the world. There was one single thing that could be done to stop it all and not only that, but several different options. The first, for example, save the cheerleader, kill Sylar, protect Ted, save Peter. But with this, there is not a multitude of choices or even a single correct answer. No matter our actions now, the Company or Angela could still get this child at a later time." Mohinder let out a long sigh after his monologue. He ran a hand through his wavy black locks, his shoulders slumped in defeat but his brilliant mind still calculating the possibilities.

"There was one thing in common with all those situations," Matt mentioned, drawing everyone's attention to himself. "We had one man leading the way."

"Petrelli," Noah and Sylar said in unison as their shared looks.

"We have to tell Peter," Matt agreed.

Noah nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Every man waited with bated breath as the phone rang.

"Petrelli, I need your help. It's about Claire," Noah spoke into the phone.

Without warning, Peter suddenly popped into the room, appearing just between Sylar and Noah. As soon as his eyes landed on Sylar, he jumped.

"You son of a bitch, what are you doing here? Are you trying to hurt her again?" Peter accused as he used Sylar's own power against him, throwing him into the nearest wall while Sylar clutched his throat.

"Peter, stop," Noah ordered. "He's on our side."

Peter stopped dead and Sylar crumpled to the floor, glaring at the youngest Petrelli as he stood.

"I think you've all got some explaining to do," Peter said as he looked at each of their faces. "What's wrong with my niece?"

Noah told the story while Peter listened patiently. He explained everything, starting from the very beginning when the Company stormed their house to the present moment. He could see Peter tensing at he spoke, but he waited until Noah finished before he said anything.

As Noah finished his narrative, arriving at the point in the story where Peter entered the equation, Peter turned his sights onto Sylar once again.

"You bastard. Haven't you done enough to her? So what, you figure you can't kill her so you'll do the next best thing? I'll kill you." Peter's voice was barely above a whisper but each word had its own menacing tone. Lightning danced from his fingertips as he stepped closer to Sylar.

"You have always been the thorn in my side. Let's end this now," Sylar threatened as he stepped closer to Peter, energy already swirling in his palms.

"Sylar, damnit, focus. This is about saving Claire and saving your son. We need Peter," Noah reminded him.

Sylar relented, but Peter did not. "How can you all be okay with this? He tried to kill her and now he's gotten her pregnant. And you're all on his side?"

Noah understood completely how he felt. "Peter, I assure you, this hasn't changed my feelings towards Sylar at all, but this isn't about him. This is about Claire and if you love her, you'll help us. Even if it means helping him."

Peter's eyes still burned with rage, but the fire that had burned within him was now just a dull ache in his side as he thought of his niece. "You're right, I'll help you."

Matt visibly relaxed but Mohinder was unmoved. "We still don't have a plan."

Sylar and Peter exchanged glances, each having reached the same conclusion. Peter was the one who spoke. "If there is one thing we've learned, it's that even the slightest change in the past can alter the future. The trick is just knowing what changes to make."

Sylar nodded and continued Peter's explanation. "And this drawing gives us all we need."

"We have to stop Elle and Angela," Peter finished.

All men nodded in agreement.

"What if we just stopped Angela from having the vision in the first place? Peter can travel back in time and Matt can tell us when she's having it," Mohinder explained.

Peter shook his head. "There's no guarantee she wouldn't have it at a later time. And I don't think my mother is the real issue here. Look at the picture again." He shoved the piece of paper into the circle again, so every man could see it. "See how she's reaching for him, she's trying to stop him. And given her age, even she can't pose much of a threat. I'd say she's just an old woman at this point trying to save her great-grandson."

Sylar agreed. "Her face, it's not right. She's not enjoying this, she hates it. She's sad, broken even."

"It's the Company. We have to make sure they can never get their hands on this baby." All heads turned to Peter, as he spoke. "We have to finish what Sylar and Claire started. We have to shut the Company down. Permanently."


	13. Chapter 13

"And how exactly do we accomplish that?" Mohinder asked, ever the voice of reason.

"Given how well I know the Company and it's structure, we have an advantage," Noah told them. "Not to mention, these two alone are capable of destroying a large city or worse." He motioned to Peter and Sylar and all eyes fell upon them.

It was then they realized they might actually be able to accomplish this. Before, it had always been Peter vs. Sylar, having them on the same side, would drastically tip the scales in their favor.

"Here's what we're going to do…"

*

Claire awoke the next morning to a surprisingly quiet house. She couldn't hear her parents talking, her mother in the kitchen, or even the television.

She also realized Sylar had never come to bed. Though, she hadn't really expected him to. Knowing her parents, even if he was the father of her unborn child, they'd make him leave or sleep in the guest room. Most likely the latter since her father would keep him close for protection's sake.

Claire slipped out of a bed and padded down the hall to the guest room. She slid the door open and was dismayed to see the bed had not been touched. Maybe they had sent him to a hotel after all.

Confused and slightly annoyed, Claire headed downstairs, her footsteps echoing a dull thud against the planked floors.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was surprised to find nothing. There was no sign of her parents or Sylar or even Matt and Mohinder.

"Mom? Dad?" she called out nervously, instantly fearing the worst.

"Claire, I'm in here," she heard her mother call from across the living room.

She followed her voice and found her standing in her father's office. "Mom, what's going on?"

Sandra didn't reply, she only passed her a piece of paper. Claire took she sheet and scanned it immediately.

_We had some business to take care of._

Those were the words scrawled on the paper in her father's handwriting. Fear instantly filled the pit of her stomach.

"Mom, I have to go. I have to get to the airport."

*

Four men stood outside the Company headquarters. The large, white building hovered in front of them in stark contrast to the gloom filled sky behind it. Knowing what they had to do, they all took a deep breath and Matt was the first to step forward.

He entered the building, pulling the glass door open with a firm pull, and stepping into the mouth of hell. He took a quick look around, before approaching the small reception desk in the center of the room.

Matt didn't wait to be greeted, he simply pulled out his old badge and began speaking in a tone that left no room for argument. "This building needs to be cleared now."

The small man at the desk paled immediately. "Why?"

"There's a bomb. We don't have time for questions, just do it!"

"Yes sir," the man muttered meekly as he pushed the alarm button under his desk. When he was satisfied with the sirens wailing throughout the building, he left his desk and ran for the door.

"_Phase one, complete."_

Noah heard Matt in his mind and nodded to himself. "Okay Peter, you're up."

Peter nodded and put his hands on the shoulders of Noah and Mohinder and then they were gone, leaving Sylar standing in a parking lot that was quickly filling with terrified people who believed their paper company was going to be blown up.

Peter reappeared next to him and grabbed his shoulder, a little harder than necessary, and Sylar found himself in a small room with Noah and Mohinder.

"You all know what you have to do and I know that each of you will do what has to be done," Noah told them. He turned to Sylar, "If something should go wrong today, I trust that you will keep Claire safe."

"Of course," Sylar answered instantly.

They turned to each other with purposeful looks. The scientist, to the cop, to the agent, the nurse, and finally, the killer.

"Gentlemen, it's been an honor," Noah said before turning to Peter and Sylar and nodding slightly.

They returned the gesture and exited the room together, enemies, side by side and fighting for a shared purpose.

Noah's instructions played in Sylar's mind as he walked down the familiar hallway.

"_Cause as much destruction as you possibly can. There is no room for mercy here."_

Sylar intended to do just that and as they exchanged glances, Sylar and Peter both reached into their extensive arsenals and chose their most damaging abilities.

Peter raised his hand and clenched his fist as his skin began to glow an eerie orange. He glanced at Sylar and saw flames jumping from his palm. They shared a brief nod and proceeded to lay waste to everything in sight.

When they were satisfied with their work on that floor, they found the stairs and headed down to the next. Feeling the need for a change, Peter searched inside himself until he found what he was looking for.

He extended his arm and lightning shot from his fingertip and struck a small table with a vase of flowers. The desk blew apart, sending splinters of wood in every direction and petals raining down on them from above.

A smirk crossed Sylar's face, he was enjoying this. He looked at Peter as he raised his hand, mocking the shape of a gun, and pointed at a wall to the right of where they were standing. He flicked his thumb and a large hole was blown into the wall, sending debris flying through the room.

It became a game, of sorts, for the two men. Both trying to outdo the other with every action and though neither would ever admit, they were enjoying themselves.

When they finally reached the bottom floor, the infamous Level 5, an area that contained them both at some point, the four floors above them were in complete ruin.

They scanned the area, both finding it clear of agents and guards, and went to examine the cells. As they had imagined, the agents had fled with the bomb threat and left the trapped to die.

Peter disappeared and returned a moment later with Matt. "We have to do this fast," Peter told them as they split up, Matt and Sylar on one side, he on the other.

Sylar and Matt approached the first cell and looked inside through the glass wall. There was a woman inside, young, probably in her mid twenties, with a mess of unkept brown hair and a terrified expression on her face.

Sylar pressed a hand to the control panel beside the door and it soon began to crack and sizzle. The lock clicked off and Sylar pushed through the door and immediately raised a hand to the woman, trapping her against the wall.

"Do it," he said to Matt as he held her completely immobile.

Matt turned his head, a hand at his temple and found what he was looking for. "She's scared. Terrified. They took her from her home in the middle of the night."

"That's great, Matt. Does she belong here or not?" Sylar asked impatiently.

Matt pushed harder, digging deeper into her mind. "She killed a man. But it was an accident. Couldn't control her ability, but she's not a danger to anyone."

Sylar let her down, gently sliding her down the wall until her feet touched the cold cement below. "Go to the stairs and run up five floors. Leave this building and never look back. Get back to your life."

"Thank you," she told him as she ran past, not even sparing a glance behind her as she fled.

They continued this with all twenty-one criminals, Matt and Sylar working half of them, Peter the rest. In the end, they had let seventeen people go free, all of them deserving better than how they'd been treated. There was four among them, though, that needed to be locked away and they were left in one of the cells.

When they reached the end of the hall, the three men stood together. "Okay, it's time."

Peter nodded and vanished into thin air, reappearing moments later with Noah and Mohinder. The two newcomers took a moment to survey the damage before moving on to the next phase of their plan.

Noah motioned for them to follow and turned to the left, leading them all down a long hallway. He stopped in front of a door and nodded to Peter who wasted no time in forcing it open, utilizing the ability of the fallen Niki Sanders.

The door swung open to reveal a lavishly decorated office. Angela Petrelli sat behind a large mahogany desk and her face was solemn, showing no signs of surprise.

"I've been expecting you," she told them calmly.

"I thought you might," Noah replied, his tone just as smooth and indifferent as hers had been.

"What do you want?" Angela asked, taking a moment to look at each of their faces.

"Answers," Sylar answered with just a hint of malice. He turned to Mohinder, "Do it."

The doctor nodded and stepped towards Angela. She tried to back away but found herself immobilized, only able to move her head.

Mohinder produced a syringe from his pocket and grabbed her wrist, feeling for her pulse. He forced the needle into her arm and injected the contents into her bloodstream. He held fast to her wrist and when her pulse reached a level he was comfortable with, he nodded to Matt.

He focused on Angela, prying into the deepest depths of her mind, searching for the answers they needed.

"She did have a dream about your son. It was the same thing you drew, but she was trying to stop him. She's telling him that she's sorry and it's her fault. Should've let him stay with his mother…was afraid he'd end up like his father."

Peter nodded, having found the same information for himself. "Mom, you have to stop this. You've already seen what your actions will lead to, why are you still following the same path?"

Angela's shoulders sagged lightly, her face betraying her age as her eyes took on a tired and weathered appearance. "Peter, I have made so many mistakes with you. All of you, my family, my grandchild. I wanted to help him, to stop him from becoming that monster."

"If you truly want to help, then you'll do nothing," Peter told her, his voice kinder and softer this time.

"You're going to step down from the Company. It's under new management now," Noah told her.

"You? You're going to run the Company?" Angela asked incredulously with a slight arch of the eyebrow.

"We all are. Mohinder will run the lab, searching for a cure for those who need it. Peter and myself will see to the capture of the dangerous criminals and Matt will interview potential agents and screen possible suspects.," Noah explained with the slightest hint of a smile.

Angela nodded. "Very well then. But you may get more get a more…difficult reaction from some of my colleagues."

They all nodded, they had expected as much. As they turned to leave, she called out to Sylar. "Gabriel, he's a special boy. Take care of him. And her."

Sylar didn't respond, not even to comment on her misuse of his given name, he only nodded.

*

Claire urged the car faster as she raced down the sun parched highway, thankful the road was deserted at this time of day. She could only pray she made it there in time. It had been a little over eight hours since she learned of their departure and knew instantly where they had gone. But she was at the extreme disadvantage of not being able to teleport there in an instant. The thought of losing everything forced her foot down on the pedal.

*

The four men stepped out of the building and into the sunlight. They had accomplished what they had set out to, but they knew their work wasn't yet done.

As they crossed the parking lot, Matt suddenly keeled over. "Oh my god."

"What is it? What's wrong, Matt?" Peter asked hurriedly, putting an arm under the other man's and supporting his weight.

"Look," Matt replied, pointing his finger straight ahead.

They all looked up and found themselves face to face with at least fifty armed agents, clad head to toe in body armor, shields on their faces, and automatic weapons in their hands.

Standing in front of the group was Elle and Trevor.

"Who's the guy?" Peter asked Sylar, his voice low and gravelly.

"His name is Trevor and his ability is suggestion."

"Noted."

"Hello again, Sylar. Peter," Elle called out across the parking lot.

"I really hate that bitch," Peter voiced his feelings low among his friends.

"Don't we all," Noah added.

"Do you really think she's going to stay with you if you play hero with her friends and family? You're still just a killer." Trevor entered the conversation with an arrogant smile. "And when you're dead, who do you think she'll end up with. Her and that baby of yours."

Sylar's vision bled red as his rage consumed him. His blood was on fire and adrenaline coursed through his veins and with it, all the abilities he'd taken. Power was surging in him, threatening to boil over and Peter immediately understood what was happening.

"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to piss you off. Do you really think Claire would ever do that?" Peter asked him, trying desperately to calm him before he lost control.

Trevor laughed. "I guess he doesn't know."

"Know what?" Noah asked, taking the opportunity to join the conversation.

"What happened between Claire and myself." His voice was taught with arrogance, proudly displaying his over-confidence. "Noah, don't pretend you're happy about your daughter's choices. You can help me end it now."

All men turned to Noah, knowing there was a possibility they'd lose him now, at the end. "I may not be happy about it, but I'd rather see her with him than with you."

Sylar felt an odd feeling welling up inside him, overtaking the rage that threatened to consume him. Acceptance, perhaps? He wasn't sure but it caused him to look at Noah in a different light.

"Then, you're a bigger fool than I thought. Sylar, kill Noah." Trevor's tone was cruel and harsh, his eyes glimmered with something akin to hate.

Sylar cursed loudly as he reached out and grabbed Noah by the throat. "I'm sorry."

His words were quietly spoken, but genuine.

"I know, it's not your fault. Peter, you have to take out Trevor."

Peter nodded and raised his hand, pointing in Trevor's direction with a stream of lightning. Elle jumped in between the two men and redirected the lightning, this time sending it straight at Mohinder.

Peter tried to react, but he wasn't quick enough and the Indian man hit the ground as the lightning coursed through his body. He turned back to their enemies and tried again to get a shot off at Trevor, but Elle pushed her partner out of the way.

"You have to get through me first, Peter," Elle called out.

Meanwhile, the pressure on Noah's throat increased as Sylar squeezed his hand together. His eyes were bulging, he struggled to take in air as he began to lose consciousness.

"Matt, get inside my head and see if you can stop this," Sylar ordered quickly, desperation in his voice that left Matt no room to argue.

He dug deep into Sylar's mind, trying to find how Trevor was controlling him.

Peter shot a stream of fire at Elle, she dogged left, he sent another round at her, she dodged right. Growing impatient, Peter stalked towards her. "Your fear…I can feel it."

Elle raised her hands in front of her, firing off the largest string of lightning she could muster. It struck Peter, charring his skin and wreaking havoc on his insides. However, it only slowed him down for a moment as his body immediately began repairing itself. Finally, he reached her and though she sent current after current of electricity into his body, he didn't stop. He grabbed her by the throat and held her in the air.

"This ends now," he told her through clenched teeth, trying to find the resolve within himself to do what had to be done.

A gunshot rang through the air and Elle's body went lifeless in his hand. A hole appeared at her forehead, blood slowly trickling out as Peter turned his head.

Noah was standing there, gun in hand. His throat was bruised, but he was otherwise fine.

"Well, that's one problem taken care of," Sylar said, surveying the remaining fifty or so agents, all poised and ready to attack upon being given the word.

Trevor stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak. He was cut short, however, as the sound of an engine could be heard.

Everyone turned in time to see a car racing across the parking the lot, the blonde driver wearing a look of determination as the car was driven right into the body of Trevor.

He was thrown against the windshield, the force of his head shattering it. Claire slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop, the momentum throwing Trevor's body a few feet forward.

She rushed from the car and to the group of men she loved, but as she almost reached them, a rain of gunfire barreling at them from every direction.

At least three bullets lodged themselves into her body, but she didn't feel them. She only cared about the men just a few feet from them. Noah and Matt were standing behind Peter and Sylar, both had their arms up, in front of their chests as they used their telekinesis to slow and hopefully stop, some of the bullets heading for them.

Claire dropped to the ground, not for fear of injury, but a need to protect the child she was carrying.

They were finally awarded a moment's peace as they heard dozens of cartridge cases hitting the ground. Sylar rushed to her side immediately and pulled her into an embrace.

"There's too many of them," Peter told them. "Even if me and Sylar use everything we've got, we won't all make it out of here."

"We can't give up now. We've come too far, it will all have been for nothing," Noah argued.

Sylar held Claire in his arms and studied her face, memorizing every curve, every inch of skin, every color reflecting in her eyes. "Claire, they're right. This has to end here. For you, for our child."

He exchanged a look with Noah, understanding comprehended immediately. Sylar put a hand under Claire's chin and tilted her head towards him. Tears were already filling her eyes, knowing what was going to come of this.

The sound of cartridges being locked into place could be heard from all around and Sylar knew he didn't have any time left. He dipped his head and caught her lips with his own. For the first time in his life, Sylar let it all out. Everything inside him, everything he felt for her he poured into that kiss.

When he finally pulled away, he looked at her, his eyes nearly bleeding with unspoken emotion. "Claire, I love you."

And before she could even respond or comprehend what was happening, she was flying into her father's waiting arms. "No, Sylar, no, don't do this!" Her screams were frantic, pleading. Even though she knew he was immortal, special like her, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that was filling her. She knew that if he stayed there, he'd never come back to her.

"It's the only way, Claire," Sylar said softly, unmoving from his position as the agents closed in on him. "I found two things I'm willing to die for."

Noah was pulling Claire away, forcing her to the car while Peter teleported Matt and Mohinder to safety. "Stop it, Dad, we have to stop him. Peter go get him, save him, please!"

Peter and Noah looked at each other. Each wishing they could do something but knowing they couldn't. If they interfered, if they stopped him, they'd be taking away his chance at redemption. Robbing him of the chance to protect his family.

Sylar turned to them one last time, first to Noah. "Take care of them." Noah nodded his reply, not needing to say the words because they both knew he would protect them with his life. Sylar then turned to Claire, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of what he was giving up. "Make sure our son knows his father loved him."

Claire wasn't even the chance to respond because he was surrounded by agents, closed in a tight circle and she couldn't even see him anymore.

"We have to go," Noah told her as she shoved her into the backseat, following behind her. "Peter, can you do it?"

Peter nodded once and put both hands on the hood of the car. It vanished just before an explosion ripped through the parking lot.

The world vanished from view for just a moment as an explosion ripped through the parking lot. It was ironic to him, in those final moments, that in the all the power he possessed, his final weapon was not one of his own, but a grenade.

But it didn't matter anymore. His family, the one he'd craved his entire life, would be safe. His son, who would one day look like his father but with his mother's eyes, would grow to be a man he'd be proud of. And the only person alive who he loved would be safe. It was all that mattered as his world went black.


	14. Epilogue

Claire sat on a bench, letting the sunlight warm her skin as a cool breeze drifted by. The only sounds were of children playing and laughing and she found herself laughing with them, smiling as a small boy with black hair and blue eyes ran toward her.

She scooped him easily, cradling his four year old body to her chest. It still amazed her how something so small could inspire such massive feelings within her. This child, her son, was all that mattered in the world. Even after she thought her world had been destroyed, along with the Company that had tormented her for so long, one look at her son's small face and she had never felt so much love.

Though, it still pained her at times to see her son. His face, so much like that of his father's. It hurt, reminding of her what she lost to get where she was, but then he smiled and all the pain melted away.

Sylar had accomplished everything he gave his life for. She and her son were safe, happy even. The Company had been rebuilt, with her father and uncle in charge, and it had become a place of hope and acceptance. No longer an organization that captured and studied the different, but one that accepted them with open arms and gave them guidance. Though, it was still necessary to house the villains somewhere they could no longer hurt anyone.

Claire's thoughts once again returned to her son. To the rest of the evolved population, he was the chosen one. The source of hope and peace and new beginnings. Being the first child with active abilities at birth and the only one among them to have multiple natural abilities, he was known worldwide. To them, he was a hero before the age of four. To her, he was her life.

He looked up at his mother, his little forehead creased and a pout on the lips that reminded her so much of _his_. "Mommy, Daniella said I was bad, like my daddy. She said he was a bad guy."

Claire's expression softened as she gazed lovingly at her son, marveling in how much he mirrored his father when he was angry. "Don't listen to Daniella, she's just trying to make you mad."

"But was she right? Was my daddy bad?" His eyes were a mirror of her own and they were pleading with her for answers.

"Your father was a hero. He made this a better place just for you. He loved you that much," Claire assured her son, her voice heavy with sadness. A sharp pain stabbed at her chest as she talked about him. It was the only pain she could feel.

"You miss him, mommy?" he asked as he rested his head against her shoulder, his short black hair brushing against her cheek.

"Every day."

"I miss him, too. Is that okay? Can I miss him even though I never met him?"

"Of course, baby. You can miss him all you want and always remember how much he loved you." She smoothed his spiky hair as she spoke, comforting him the way she had since he was first born.

Claire looked up to see her grandmother watching her and her son. She smiled and the older woman returned the gesture. They had become closer since that day, the now elderly woman trying to spend as much time with her grandchildren as she could.

Angela had another dream just after the baby was born. In this one, Claire's son was the voice of peace and hope, leading them all into an era of happiness and acceptance, bridging the gap between themselves and those without special abilities.

It was a bittersweet irony, Claire often thought. The most feared man at the time had ensured their salvation. The villain had become the hero and most didn't even remember Sylar. They remembered Gabriel, the man who gave his life and helped form a better world.

And when the time came, Gabriel Gray would save them all.

* * *

A/N: Well guys, it's been a fun ride but that's it for this one. I hope you all enjoyed it. Not sure if there'll be anything else big coming from me, but I've got a few one-shots on the way.


End file.
